Short Stories of the Inspired
by Mommints
Summary: Horrible summary but a humble submission of short snippets I've written over a period of time, with Ardeth or Frank in various scenessituations. A mixture of angst, action and romance. A new snippet just added! Please r&r! ;-) Thanks!
1. Default Chapter

Short Stories of the Inspired  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Rick and Evy O'Connell and Ardeth Bay belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. All other characters belong to the author. The character of Frank Donovan belongs to Shane Salerno and NBC Entertainment, no copy infringement intended. Feedback is welcomed, email Mommint@msn.com  
  
Over a period of time, I've posted various snippets involving Ardeth Bay and Frank Donovan in some interesting situations. Some of these short shorts were done totally off-the-cuff, inspired by the movies, TV or another writer's story. Gotta love when inspiration strikes and if I've learned anything, it's when my muse smacks me along side the head, I should listen. LOL  
  
Hope you enjoy these brief glimpses into what might have been or still could be...and yes, I am working on Hero's 4. It's coming but very slowly so thanks for the patience and your emails. Special thanks to Deana who has inspired more than you realize and Patty, who has been more than patient for word on Nabil.  
  
So now, if you dare, take a brief glimpse of what goes on in my mind.  
  
~*~  
  
Bother  
  
"Wish I was too dead to cry  
  
My self-affliction fades  
  
Stones to throw at my creator  
  
Masochists to which I cater"  
  
~*~  
  
"You don't have to leave," she whispered heart broken. Eyes luminous with unshed tears, words seemed to fail her at the moment as she watched Ardeth move stiffly around the room. For the past three weeks she had come to associate him with this room as she nursed him back to health. He had been found outside on the orphanage steps one night, sick, his body shaking with fever from a recent wound in his side. No questions were asked; no answers could be given as they took him inside and cared for him.  
  
The entire time he was ill, she had stayed by his side, fighting for his life as ferociously as a warrior would fight an enemy. During this time he had somehow become part of her for his masculine scent clung to the bedclothes, her hands and her soul. His presence filled every dark corner of her world and had somehow seeped into the farthest recesses of her lonely heart.  
  
~*~  
  
"You don't need to bother  
  
I don't need to be  
  
I'll keep slipping farther  
  
But once I hold on  
  
I won't let go 'til it bleeds"  
  
~*~  
  
"I have no choice," Ardeth replied tonelessly, his movements mechanical as he packed up what meager possessions he could claim as his own. He set his jaw against the feelings he felt blossom in his beleaguered heart over the past several days and kept his eyes averted, knowing he would be lost if he were to gaze up at her face.  
  
~*~  
  
"I wish I had a reason  
  
My flaws are open season  
  
For this, I gave up trying  
  
One good turn deserves my dying"  
  
~*~  
  
She took a step forward, a small cry of protest bubbled up from her throat, one hand poised in mid-air to touch him. She stopped, knowing all too well considering the short time she had spent with what he planned to do. He would sacrifice himself and take those coming after him away from here. He had to protect the children but who would protect him? "They'll kill you," she whispered and instead wrapped her arms around her trembling body as a chill raced down her spine.  
  
~*~  
  
"Wish I'd died instead of lived  
  
A zombie hides my face  
  
Shell forgotten with its memories  
  
Diaries left with cryptic entries"  
  
~*~  
  
"They will come after me but in leaving," Ardeth finally turned to face her, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You, the good doctor and the children will be safe." Fully clothed and armed, he lowered his eyes once more, the heartache reflected in her face more than he could bear.  
  
She met him at the doorway, hands reaching out to touch him, eyes silently pleading not to go; each gesture a mute appeal to think his rash plan through more thoroughly. All of it not making one bit of difference. They both knew it; she just couldn't accept it and her hands dropped uselessly to her sides.  
  
"You should not have saved me," Ardeth whispered, tilting his head slightly to gaze at her hands. He noticed they were shaking as she held them clasped in front of her.  
  
~*~  
  
"You don't need to bother"  
  
~*~  
  
"I had no choice," she whispered back, her eyes glancing down at his torso, knowing the white bandages underneath his robes might be tinted red from his wound tearing a few stitches.  
  
~*~  
  
"I don't need to be"  
  
~*~  
  
"I will do what is necessary to protect the weak and innocent," Ardeth stated quietly and impulsively reached out, cupping her chin and making her look up at him.  
  
~*~  
  
"I'll keep slipping farther"  
  
~*~  
  
"I will honor my oath," he said, his dark gaze sweeping over her hair, face, body as if committing it all to memory. His fingers trailed down her cheek in a light caress then he moved away.  
  
~*~  
  
"But once I hold on"  
  
~*~  
  
"Come back to me," she couldn't stop the sob of despair escape from her heart. She reached up and tried to capture his hand, to place a kiss on the palm but he moved away from her too quickly.  
  
~*~  
  
"I'll never live down my deceit"  
  
~*~  
  
She followed him through the doorway and out into the courtyard, trailing behind his tall dark form as he walked toward his waiting horse. With a practiced critical eye, she watched as he mounted, his body already faltering from weakness. It was too soon...too soon.  
  
Ardeth gathered the reins in one hand, should have kicked the horse into a gallop but instead, he turned to look at her one last time.  
  
"You don't need to bother," he whispered and gave a nod of farewell. The horse suddenly lunged forward from Ardeth's command and sprinted away towards the open desert.  
  
She stepped behind the horse, ignoring the cloud of dust left in its wake and whispered in reply, "But I need you to be."  
  
~*~  
  
Side note: words taken from a simple yet powerful song called "Bother" by Stone Sour. It seemed to fit. 


	2. Alternate last chapter for “Warrior, Wol...

Alternate last chapter for "Warrior, Wolf and Witch"  
  
This is a brief snippet of what could have been for a story I've wanted to revise. I have yet to post it here on FF but at Deana's suggestion, I did start to re-write it several weeks ago. Sadly my hard drive crashed and silly me never uploaded the changes to a disk.  
  
To give a brief synopsis, the O'Connell's and Ardeth find themselves in the highlands of Scotland in a spooky old castle searching for a diary that contains directions to find Hamunaptra. The deceased laird's son Conor has other plans for the diary as well as a stolen book of shadows taken from the witch Rhoswen. As the O'Connell's race against time to find the diary hidden somewhere in the castle library, Ardeth finds himself falling under the wild spell of the witch and the call of the wolf. Perhaps someday soon I'll get back to revising this story and posting it here..  
  
~*~  
  
Conor plunged the knife into Ardeth's stomach with a surprising amount of ease and met little resistance. It felt like he was cutting through warm butter. He buried it to the hilt and twisted even as Ardeth tried to grab onto his shoulders, most likely fighting to stay conscious despite the pain he must have felt. With malevolent glee, Conor watched as Ardeth's face paled and his body seemed to crumple onto its self. With a vicious jerk of his hand, he yanked the knife free and watched as the warrior slowly sank to the ground.  
  
Clutching his bloody stomach, Ardeth felt his knees hit the ground hard and the jolt almost kept him from losing consciousness. However the demand on his rapidly weakening body was too great and with an odd sigh of acceptance, he lost the battle. Ardeth fell to his side, his eyes slowly fluttering shut as a sense of peace swept over him.  
  
Conor's lips curled back in a parody of a triumphant smile as the Medjai succumbed to the fatal injury. He didn't hear anything over the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears, nor could he could hear the agonized screams of the O'Connell's. All that mattered was that his enemy was dead and he was free to become a rich man.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" Rick shouted angrily as he charged forward to reach his friend. A shot whistled over his shoulder and a second later, he saw the bullet lodged in Conor's forehead. A brief look of surprise flashed over Conor's face then Rick spun around to see Evy standing behind him, the still smoking gun in her hand. He turned back to Conor just in time to see him fall, dead before he hit the cold, hard ground.  
  
"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Rick muttered a litany of grief, as he fell to Ardeth's side and searched for a way to help his friend, as a feeling of helplessness washed over him. He put his hands over the wound, tried to staunch the flow of bright red blood that flowed down Ardeth's robes like scarlet ribbons but it was useless. He looked up at Evy with the intention of asking her what they could do but grief made speech impossible.  
  
Rhoswen stood off to the side, numb beyond words, never realizing her visions meant she would witness the warrior die. How could she have been so wrong, didn't the future hold a promise for him of a greater reward? She knelt down and buried her face in Graystar's shaggy chest, letting the tears stream down her face, the book of shadows temporarily forgotten.  
  
Evy lowered her gun and slowly walked over to her distraught husband, who was now cradling the body of his friend and begging him not to die. Oddly she was without grief, choosing instead to focus on the belief that Ardeth was all right, that he was still alive.  
  
"Ardeth?" She called out softly and sank to her knees in shock beside Rick. She reached out and tentatively touched his shoulder.  
  
"Ardeth! Open your eyes, damnit. Look at me, open your eyes now!" Rick commanded in a near shout, his voice hoarse with grief.  
  
"O'Connell?" Ardeth whispered, sucked in small erratic breaths and tried to ignore the coldness that seeped into his body. "Rick..."  
  
"Tell me what to do, tell me how I can save you." Rick answered desperately. "I can save you."  
  
"There is..nothing that can be done..my friend. Both you and.. I know this." Ardeth sighed and with one bloody hand weakly grabbed onto Rick's sleeve.  
  
"I don't believe it, there has to be something. Tell me and I'll do it, I'll do anything," Rick replied then looked up at Evy helplessly.  
  
"Let..me go. It is the will..of Allah." Ardeth rasped, as breathing became so much harder. He tried to ignore the white light that suddenly appeared over O'Connell's right shoulder but his eyes were drawn back to it and its compelling warmth. He knew what it was and the eternal rest it offered. "They are ..waiting for me."  
  
"No," Rick gathered his friend closer, as if that accomplishment alone could hold off impending death. He closed his eyes when he heard a sudden gasp escape from Ardeth's lips then opened them again as he felt Evy's hand on his shoulder.  
  
Ardeth felt himself drift away, wished he could have done something to ease the pain he saw on the faces of Rick and Evy but the light beyond that was too hard to ignore any more. With one last shuddering breath, Ardeth Bay died.  
  
Evy shook her head in denial, this was not possible. Ardeth wasn't supposed to die, he was supposed to live. He was young and still had his whole life ahead of him; he was the protector of man, of Hamunaptra. He was supposed to have gotten married and had children, he was supposed to life a full life. She shook her head again and spotted Rhoswen. In her mind, somehow the witch was responsible for Ardeth dying and that made also made her responsible for fixing this horrible mistake.  
  
"You!" Evy jumped up and ran over to the witch. "Do something for God's sake, use a spell in that precious book of yours and bring him back to life."  
  
Rhoswen sadly shook her head. "It is not for me to intercede. No spell, no power that I hold can bring him back. Ardeth alone must choose."  
  
"What in bloody hell are you talking about?" Evy grabbed her by the arm, ignoring the warning growl from the wolf and dragged her over to the fallen warrior. "You're telling me you can't magic something up to bring him back?"  
  
Rhoswen jerked her arm free and stared at Evy, knowing grief fueled her actions. "When a wolf dies, it doesna fight death for it is neither friend nor enemy. It simply is. For yer friend, he has the choice to choose between the world where he is with loved ones, or the afterlife where those who love him wait for him. But he must decide for him what simply is, I canna and will not make that decision for him."  
  
Stifling a sob, Evy slowly turned away from the witch and went back to her husband. She knelt down and reached out with one shaky hand to lovingly brush back the dark hair from Ardeth's face. He looked so peaceful, relaxed and free of any pain.  
  
"Ardeth, come back to us, we need you. Please," she whispered.  
  
Evy bent lower and whispered her plea again, watching and praying that somehow, he heard her. She heard Rick add his own entreaty and they held their breath, waiting to see what choice the warrior would make. 


	3. Frank Donovan and Jade

Ok time to switch characters here. This is a snippet that just wouldn't let me go several months ago...at least for a while as I had continued this off-the-cuff story in sequels. Sadly it may never come to fanfic, not while I have a thousand idea's brewing for the Hero's story line. But then again, I haven't done a UC story yet so there's always hope. LOL  
  
So here's another offering for.in the shadows, our minds tend to wander and create Frank Donovan and Jade in a case of mistake identity.  
  
Enjoy.  
  
~*~  
  
She stood in the foyer of her newly purchased Victorian home and watched in dismay as the lights flickered in response to the raging thunderstorm outside. She kicked the front door closed, slowly lowered the box labeled "bathroom" to the hardwood floor but kept her eyes focused on the antique light fixture overhead. Another crack of thunder rumbled overhead, loud enough to rattle the windows, and suddenly the house was pitched into darkness. The electricity finally caved in to the awesome power of nature.  
  
"Great, just freakin' great," she muttered and realized she had no idea where the circuit box was or what carton she had packed the flashlights and candles.  
  
There was some feeble illumination that streamed in through the foyer window that came from a street lamp outside. Using that as a guide and most likely looking like she was sleep walking with her hands out in front of her, she slowly made her way to the dining room. She was pretty certain the box with the flashlights had been placed in there by the movers.  
  
Suddenly, a gray blur darted in front of her and she swallowed back a yelp of surprise.  
  
"Damn it, Sam! Don't do that!" She said and placed a hand over her wildly beating heart. "You scared the crap out of me."  
  
Sam perched on top of a high stack of boxes near the doorway and arched his back as his tail twitched in pleasure; he had a three story home to explore. She reached out to give him an affectionate scratch behind his ear and laughed when he pushed his head into her hand with a loud purr of contentment. "Crazy cat." She said with a smile.  
  
"Will wonders never cease." A deep voice suddenly spoke up from behind her and she spun around in surprise. Sam leaped off the boxes in fright and disappeared into the next room. She swallowed the scream in her throat and stood paralyzed as she stared at the dark figure of a man standing in the foyer, his features shadowed by the light behind him. He was tall and lean, dressed in a flowing black trench coat and dark pants, his legs braced apart in a stance that could only be called....dominate. She could feel the weight of the stare even through the darkness, and when a bolt of lightening abruptly turned night into day for a moment, she could see the barely contained malice that glittered in his dark eyes.  
  
"Not only do you forget to lock your front door, but now you have a pet." His strangely accented voice washed over her like an unexpected tidal wave of warmth. "Not like you, Jade, to get careless and sentimental."  
  
"Who the hell are you?" She demanded, feeling a false sense of bravado. "Get out of my house before I call the police." Frantically, she mentally searched where she had last placed the portable phone and almost groaned when she realized it was on the second floor. In order to reach it, she would have to get past the intruder to the nearby stairs.  
  
He gave a short, humorless bark of laughter. "Amnesia too, what a nice touch. You've really gone to great lengths to hide from me but as always, it's useless." He took a step forward. "I told you I would find you. Do you think I could let you go so easily, especially after last time?" His voice had gone soft and cajoling, but with a hard edge of hurt that wasn't lost on her. Whoever this woman was, she had hurt this man deeply and he still ached over it.  
  
"Ok listen up, asshole. I don't know who Jade is, I don't know who you are and quite frankly I don't care. Get the hell out of my house now." She slowly edged towards him, and knew she surprised him with her boldness.  
  
"I'm sorry but I can't do that." He shook his dark head. "I've come too far, risked too much to simply walk out this door."  
  
They squared off at each other in a tense standoff, like two combatants ready for war as the storm overhead continued to unleash its fury. A clap of thunder, another brilliant flash of lightening that momentarily distracted her unwanted guest and she took advantage of it, feinting to the right towards the door. Then she suddenly darted towards the left and sprinted towards the stairs.  
  
And to the phone.  
  
She had made it up halfway up before she felt a strong hand clamp around her ankle, making her trip and she bit back her scream of terror. She landed on the steps hard and grunted when he fell onto her even harder. His solid length covered her squirming one within a heartbeat, his hands struggling to capture hers as she tried to claw herself away from him. In a panic, she kicked out connecting with a solid thud against one muscular thigh, a desperate bid for freedom that was to be short lived. She scrambled up the last few steps, the phone only inches away from her outstretched hand when she was captured once more. This time, she couldn't help but voice her frustration with a strangled cry. She hit the floor and momentarily had the wind knocked out of her but had no chance to recover. He was on top of her in an instant, pinning her with his substantial weight and flipped her over, trying to impede her frantic movements. She pummeled him with her fists, in a wild flurry of panic that was easily stopped when he captured her hands and held them prisoner over her head. His body pressed her against the floor; his face inches away and he stared at her, with a mixture of lust and something else. Could it be regret she saw pooling in those intense black eyes?  
  
"I can't leave you alone, Jade. You're like a sickness in my blood. So I thought if I were to find you, and make love to you, again and again, maybe I could cleanse you from my soul," he hung his dark head near her heaving breasts. "As easily as you've seemed to have cleansed me from your life."  
  
She stilled her movements, a new dread snaking its way through her mind. He was going to rape her. Tears gathered in her eyes, making them glisten like diamonds in the gloom and she swallowed hard against her fear. "I told you I'm not." she started to protest.  
  
"Why did you leave the safe house? What could have possibly motivated you to take a risk with your life, away from the protection of the FBI? Don Salvatora's mob has a contract out on your life and yet..."  
  
He looked up, his face hardening with a decision and he suddenly swooped down on her lips in a bruising kiss. There was no gentleness, no tenderness, this was a kiss meant to punish, to make her hurt as much as him. His tongue slid into her mouth with ease, dominating, stroking, conquering and she tried to avoid it, turning her head as tears spilled down her face. When he tasted those salty droplets of anguish, he stopped his brutal onslaught and abruptly started to kiss her gently. The same tongue that had previously punished her now tended to her, fondling, caressing hers as the kiss deepened. He felt her arms creep up and slide around his neck, drawing him closer and they both drank deeply of each other.  
  
Abruptly he broke off the kiss and stared down at her, his eyes searching her features in the darkness as a nagging voice suddenly popped up in his head. Never before had Jade responded to him this honestly, not with as much innocent passion as he had just felt with her now. And maybe, just maybe this woman was telling him the truth.  
  
This wasn't Jade.  
  
~*~  
  
Part II to follow soon, I promise. Thanks for all the reviews and by the way, "Warrior, Wolf and Witch" is going to be revised and published here. I blame that all on Deana...lol. I'm kidding, just kidding Dee. 


	4. Frank and Jade Part II

Conclusion to Frank and Jade's twin. Thanks for the reviews, they're always appreciated. Shall we go for another Ardeth snippet or go for a modern day Nabil? Hmmmmm? LOL  
  
~*~  
  
Reality came crashing back to her and she seized the opportunity for freedom, ashamed at her wanton response to this stranger. She pushed against his broad chest and was surprised when he relinquished his hold. Both of them separated and crawled away from the other, sitting against opposite walls of the hallway.  
  
He leaned his head back and threaded a hand through his hair from frustration, his mind waging a battle with his heart. And he stared at the woman across from him, still reluctant to admit this was a serious care of mistaken identity.  
  
She felt the impact of his stare as she struggled for some resemblance of control. However fear motivated her to do something rash and foolish. She jumped up and sprinted towards the phone, anger now spurring her actions and the desire to get away from this madman. She took it on the run, cradling it in her hand as she sprinted past him and made it to the top of the stairs.  
  
"No!" He shouted and lunged after her, his hands outstretched to grab her so he could at least explain. He needed to clarify, to talk to her and for his own sanity, come to an understanding how he could have made this monumental mistake and attack a woman he obviously didn't know. His obsession with Jade would be the death of him.  
  
They collided at the banister, she off balance because she was dialing 911, and he slammed into her knocking the phone out of her hand. It went tumbling down the steps. She almost dove after it but he stopped her, twisting his body and in the process lost his footing. The result was that he lost his balance, his wind-milling arms having no effect in stopping his forward momentum. She watched in morbid fascination as his body rolled downstairs, long legs hitting the banister with resounding bangs, his long coat tangling around his body like a blanket. He finally came to rest at the bottom and his head hit the floor with a loud thump.  
  
Silence. Outside the storm had subsided, the only signs of its spent fury was the sound of a gentle rain fall.  
  
She flew downstairs until she stopped a few inches from his prone body, and suddenly her legs gave out and she crashed to the floor. She held onto the banister as if it could lend her some strength and took deep gulping breaths of air. At this moment in time, ignoring the twinges of her aching body, she wished for nothing more than for the lights to come back on so she could see him more clearly. And to find the phone so she could now call for an ambulance.  
  
As if on cue, the electricity surged back on and the interior of her home was once again bathed in its warm, yellow light.  
  
Slowly, she knelt down on her knees near his large body and saw the phone lying near his side. She reached out with one shaking hand, fingertips grazing one end of it. It was almost within her reach when he groaned and turned his head towards her and she stopped, poised over his chest, holding her breath in fear that he would awaken. A moment later her fear was realized and his eyes fluttered open. She stared into the warm, dark honey colored orbs that reflected such torment and pain and she felt herself falling down into those dark depths. For a second she was afraid and felt lost. She stopped reaching for the phone and surprised herself instead by reaching for him.  
  
"Are you all right?" She asked, going against every instinct to call for help and have his ass thrown in jail. Instead she listened to her heart and with tender hands felt the bruise swelling just above his temple, near the hairline.  
  
"No," he replied sardonically and winced at her gentle prodding.  
  
They stared at one another and tentatively, she moved her hand up to rest behind his neck, fingers softly caressing the warm skin and firm muscles there. Her other hand rested on his chest, fingers splayed out and she could feel the rapid beating of his heart. She leaned down to his face, watched in fascination when his tongue came out to moisten his lips that must have been dry as warning signals went off in her head. This man was dangerous. A wacko that had broken into her home and attacked her under the pretense of her being someone else. So why did their breathing merge together and in sync; he would exhale and she would inhale, taking in his air and letting it wash over her soul. Why did she feel such unexplained tenderness for this man and how could she ignore the embers of her desire that started to burn hotter. Had it been that long since her last boyfriend? So long since the last time she had been held in the strong security of a man's embrace, surrendering herself to a kiss that would rob her of her senses?  
  
"I should go, I've made a mistake," he offered weakly, knowing there was no chance in hell he could move. How could he just leave her, this woman who had innocently captured him, ensnared him with her open response when he had been denied the same from another? He needed to tell her of the danger she was now in for if he made a mistake, others would as well. "You're not Jade."  
  
"No shit Sherlock. Obviously," she whispered dryly and hesitated before adding, "Would that be so bad?"  
  
"You don't know what you're saying..." he groaned and couldn't help but shift again, so her sweet little body now rested between his legs and close to the source of his heat. "Don't know what you're getting into..."  
  
She silenced his protests with her fingers to his lips, a wicked grin on her face. "You mean there's more? Tackling a woman on the stairs is just the preamble for what's to come? You certainly know how to show a girl a good time."  
  
He stared at her as if she lost her mind, the irony of the situation not lost on him.  
  
"Why don't you let me be the judge?" she said with a half hearted grin. Slowly, she lowered her head until their lips were a fraction of an inch apart. When his tongue came out to taste her, she gave into a sudden craving and captured it with her lips. She sucked it into the moist interior of her mouth, stroked it, tangled it with her own and caught his grunt of surprise that turned into an animal-like growl of pure need. Her hands entwined themselves around his neck as his hands came down to grasp her waist and pull her up against his hips. The delicious contact made her gasp as the ravenous kiss continued and she felt like she was being consumed alive with a fire that was burning out of control.  
  
He pressed her hips against him, as he continued to plunder her willing mouth, ignoring the voice inside his head frantically ordering him to stop....before it was too late. This wasn't supposed to happen this way. He had tracked Jade down, investigated every lead, and exhausted all resources until he got a break a few days ago. A reliable source, or so he had thought, had reported that she had bought this house several days ago. He had followed the lead here, only to discover the woman he had been hunting for six long months had disappeared. And had been replaced by someone new. To his amazement, in the span of this night, the hunter had become the prey and he held the victor in his arms, unwilling to let her go.  
  
Their mouths slanted over the other's, the kiss becoming wild, as a prelude leading up to something more consuming and it took a supreme amount of effort to control himself when her hand went down to the waistband of his pants. With the speed of a striking cobra, his hand halted its progress before any more damage could be done and brought it up to be imprisoned against his chest. He was the one that broke off the kiss with a guttural moan of denial. Not this, not now.  
  
She leaned up away from him, her eyes shimmering with desire, her lips rosy and swollen from passion. She watched the myriad of emotions sweep across his face until she finally recognized the one of pain. Oh God, his head, she thought and immediately felt chagrined. "Your head....Jesus, I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me."  
  
Closing his eyes against the pounding headache that was starting in his forehead, letting her think his head injury was bothering him. It wasn't that far from the truth. "No need to apologize but I think we should move. I have a lot of explaining to do."  
  
"Can you stand?" she asked and took hold of his large, warm hand.  
  
He frowned, hesitating before replying. "I think so, with some help."  
  
She scooted away from him, and leaned back, pulling with all her strength. She never thought of herself as a strong woman, never really gave it much thought either way until this moment, when faced with the monumental task of pulling an object that outweighed her by more than a few pounds. After a couple of attempts, they finally got him to his feet, a triumph marred by the fact he was swaying. She watched in concern when one shaky hand reached up to brush across his forehead. Instinct made her decision for her and she looped her arm under one of his shoulders, the other wrapped around his waist, supporting his already sagging weight.  
  
"Don't you dare pass out on me," she snapped. They shuffled over to the overstuffed sofa in the living room and not a moment too soon. With an audible groan, his long legs folded out from beneath him and he collapsed onto the cushions, bringing her with him.  
  
"Let go of my...OH!" she gasped and fell with him, her one arm trapped beneath his body, her own sprawled across his chest and her face ending up close to his neck. She struggled in vain for a few moments, trying to free her hand, pushing against him with the other. She twisted her hips, pumped her legs, did everything she could possible think of....and it all ended when his free arm came around and anchored her wiggling body against him. She was trapped against him and there was nothing she could do.  
  
"Oh for Christ's sake..." she muttered. Moving his dead weight was like trying to move a mountain.  
  
"I owe you an apology...." he murmured, the rumbling from his deep, accented voice making his chest vibrate slightly.  
  
"You owe me more than that," she unconvincingly threatened and reverted back to her initial bout of anger. "Tell me why I shouldn't call the cops?"  
  
He was silent for a second and she feared he had finally passed out. Oddly she found her own concentration slipping, exhaustion from moving coupled with the warmth radiating from his body. She felt oddly secure and content with his arm wrapped around her. Against its will, her face moved up to his neck, seeking out the inviting warm olive colored skin. And with a wicked grin, she pressed her nose against it, inhaling deeply the spicy scent combined with some faded cologne. God, how long had it been when she last smelled a man wearing cologne? And one as handsome as this one, she grudgingly had to admit as her eyes roamed over his face. Somehow, he didn't seem so threatening now, his features relaxed and somehow looking boyish, long dark lashes resting against his cheek.  
  
She shifted her body, the drowsy comfort of his strong arms taking its toll. She placed her face in the crook of his neck and daringly, placed a warm kiss on the pulsating spot just below his ear lobe. She heard his sharp intake of breath and when she brought her head back, she found those warm, inviting eyes staring at with a mixture of wonder and reluctance.  
  
They stared at each other for a heart beat's moment and she leaned her face closer when she heard him whisper, "Because I am one." 


	5. Double shot of Ardeth

Hmmmm no one seemed to dig the Frank and Jade saga so here's a double shot to make amends. For the first snippet, it seems that this is the kind of scenario I really do well in writing - mysterious warrior to the rescue of the woman in danger. Oh what would you give to be the woman in his arms? LOL  
  
I like to call this one...A chance to dream - Ardeth.  
  
Enjoy.  
  
~*~  
  
"Do not be afraid," he commanded in a firm yet gentle voice. He sheathed his scimitar and spared a quick glance around the ruins of the building. He turned back to the woman, satisfied his men would keep him safe while he rescued her. She was cowering in a corner, her body curled up and trembling. At the sound of his voice, her head snapped up, eyes wild with fear and she whimpered holding out one hand as if that alone could stop his advance.  
  
"Please...don't come any closer," she moaned and pushed herself further into her pitiful sanctuary.  
  
He would not be deterred and despite her feeble protests, he knelt down and gathered her into his arms. She immediately started fighting him, her arms and hands flailing at him, the blows as light and as harmless as the fluttering of moth's wings. He grunted from her gentle assault, shifted her weight against him and had the sudden odd thought she weighed barely more than a child.  
  
"Do not fight me...I am here to help you," he soothed and turned around, his dark gaze sweeping the interior, seeking the fastest and safest way out. He strode towards the door, noting with concern there was no sign of his second in command or any of his men for that matter. He felt a pinprick of fear, his warrior instincts telling him the Tuareg were not done raiding this peaceful oasis just yet. The passage of time was the new enemy he fought now.  
  
"Then if your trying to help me, why do you hide your face?" she asked sounding disgruntled and wary. Yet her hands stopped beating on him, perhaps because she knew he spoke the truth. They curled around his neck, pulling her body closer to him as she craved the safety he represented.  
  
"You must trust me," he muttered his reply. They darted through the doorway and out into the smoked filled courtyard, the sounds of fighting coming closer as he tried to regain his bearings, searching for his horse. Preoccupied, he almost flinched in surprise when he felt her hands come up and slowly pull down his face covering. He blinked in surprise, looked down at her face and wondered at the expression of awe glimmering in her eyes. She reached up and with her fingertips, caressed the dark crescent shaped tattoo's that adorned his skin. Despite the sounds of battle all around them, he heard...no felt her sigh of acceptance a few moments later. She snuggled closer to his body, her face pressed into the V of his robes, her breath washing over his chest and stomach, the feel of it cool and sweet. One of her arms remained curled around his neck, the other slipped below to wrap around his waist.  
  
They had almost reached his horse when his men suddenly swarmed around him in protection. His Second led the way; the question about the woman expressed clearly in his eyes but would save it for later when they were all safe. He was about to mount and started to hand the woman over to his sub commander to hold when he heard her speak again. Almost impossible to hear but nonetheless, it was as clear as if she had leaned up and whispered in his ear.  
  
"What is your name, my dark champion?" she asked.  
  
He came to a standstill and hesitated only for a moment, finally glancing down at the woman he held so tenderly in his arms. Against his will he found himself drowning into the crystal blue of her eyes; that despite the bloodshed she had witnessed the purity of them had not congealed from her terror or shock. Even more amazing was he found himself answering...  
  
"I am Ardeth Bay," he replied.  
  
~*~  
  
Double shot as I promised, here's a little daydream/snippet all started by the innocent comment of what Ardeth would look like in black leather and riding a Harley. Here's my version and I hope you like..  
  
Ardeth on a Hog  
  
~*~  
  
It started out to be the usual sweltering hot day in the desert, the sky colored a robin's egg blue without a fluffy cloud to obscure the hot blast of the sun. The breeze, if it could be called that, came in hot gusts and swirled up small piles of sand into dust devils, making them dance and skitter across the parched earth and down the main street of town.  
  
She came out of her small adobe home, wearing faded blue jean shorts, a tee shirt tucked up exposing her midriff in an attempt to keep her cool and her favorite pair of beat up Keds. Her long hair was already pulled up off her neck and because of the heat; its curls were going haywire and wild. Shading her face with one hand, her gaze swept over the small community and she sighed.  
  
Just another hot day in Nowheresville USA.  
  
She ambled off towards the main store, the only one the small town had. One store, one policeman, one garbage collector and one post office. Locals liked to tease tourists saying this was the only town where you could look down one road and see your neighbor coming out of his house at the other end. She hooked her hands in her jean pockets and as she crossed the state highway that cut the town in half, she heard a distinctive noise coming from one end of the blacktop. She stopped midway, shielded her eyes again and stared down the shimmering line of asphalt that stretched out before her like a long black snake.  
  
The dust cloud heralding the arrival of the passing motorcyclist grew bigger and she stood transfixed, curious to see who in these parts had gotten themselves a bike.  
  
No amend that, not just any bike but a Harley. Even at this distance, she could hear its unique whine of the engine, hear the downshift in gears, and almost imagine the puff of white smoke coming from its chrome plated tail pipes. Someone took care of this hog; she could tell and watched in anticipation as the speck grew closer.  
  
When she could make out the owner, she had to stop herself from making the sign of the cross for protection. And for a fleeting moment, thought the devil himself had decided to pay this town a social call.  
  
The biker down shifted the gears and brought the Harley into a gentle curve, coming off the highway and stopping in front of the general store in a small cloud of dust. First her eyes roamed over the bike, noting he was riding a custom '98 black Fembot Harley. A wry grin tugged the corner of her mouth when she noted the silver emblem of a naked woman on each side of the fuel tank and front fender. Then she couldn't help but let her eyes roam over the rider, mentally agreeing rider suited hog and vice versa.  
  
He was tall and lean, dressed in black from head to foot as he methodically slapped off the dust from his travels with one hand. With the grace of a dancer, he swung one long leg over the bike and stood up, and she guessed he stood somewhere around six feet, give or take a few inches. He was helmetless and wore his raven colored hair long and tied back probably for practicality sakes. It was when he turned around to stare at her standing in the middle of the road that she finally did make the sign of the cross over herself and her eyes widened in surprise.  
  
She knew all bikers wore tattoo's, it was part of the tradition - get drunk, get a tattoo. Some of them were inked from their shoulders down to their wrists in what was called a sleeve. Most had tattoo's in places nice respectable women wouldn't even dream of looking....this man had them on his face. They were two identical crescent shaped marks on his cheeks, done in dark ink and looking quite exotic against his warm olive colored skin. His face was framed by a neatly trimmed beard, he had full lips and when he threaded his fingers through his hair in an effort to get it out of his face, and she saw his forehead and the tops of his hands were marked as well.  
  
The distant blaring of a car horn snapped her out of her trance and made him look up at the same interruption. In the space of a heart beat, she saw his eyes, colored dark and dangerous stare at her yet she stood frozen, her legs unwilling to move. To even take that first step towards him. That thought alone was ridiculous, why should she be afraid of this man? She's seen thousands of bikers before, why would this one effect her in ways she couldn't even begin to fathom?  
  
The horn blasted again this time closer and she turned in horror, seeing the vehicle bearing down on her and realized she had no time to run. She could see the face of the driver, his mouth open and spewing out what she felt was an endless stream of curses as it became apparent she would be run over.  
  
"Stupid idiot", she muttered to herself, "Getting killed in front of my own home."  
  
A dark shape loomed in her peripheral vision and suddenly she was flying through the air, a hard arm thrown across her chest. An equally hard body slammed into her back as they flew through the air and out of the way of the oncoming car. Somehow they twisted and when they landed on the other side of the road, the other body took the brunt of the impact. She heard a grunt. They landed in a cloud of dust, his leather coat swirling around them like large black wings of a bird before settling over them, like a shroud and she stayed still for a few moments, trying to catch her breath.  
  
The dust settled, the heat of the sun bearing down on them making the tentative embrace she was in feel even hotter. Then she heard his accented voice murmur in her ear, sending chills of unknown anticipation and fear race down her spine.  
  
"If you were trying to kill yourself, I know of a far better method than getting hit by car," he drawled out slowly. 


	6. Modern Nabil – Garden workout and surpri...

I'm very sad to announce I'm getting to the end of my snippets. I have a few more, one of them a vampire one but I'm not sure if I should post it here. Unless we could dream its Ardeth or Frank as a vampire? LOL You tell me if you want it posted.  
  
To show my appreciation for all the reviews you wonderful people have given me, here's one of my favorite snippets. This was inspired over the long hot summer, when I happened to be out on the deck sitting in the sunshine. And I got to thinking...what would it be like to look out into my yard and see a Medjai working in the garden? Granted I could have written this with Ardeth but instead I chose a certain gray-eyed warrior people have been worried about in Hero's. *wink wink*  
  
So imagine if you will a Medjai in the year 2002, working in the garden on a hot summer's day..enjoy.  
  
Modern Nabil - Garden workout and surprise  
  
~*~  
  
In a quiet suburban neighborhood, in the side yard of a home there was a Medjai...  
  
Nabil slowly stood up in the bright mid-morning sunshine and dragged an arm across his forehead. 'By Allah it was hot' Nabil thought and walked over to where his glass of lemonade rested in the shade under a cherry tree. For practical purposes and common sense, the warrior had shed his usual Medjai attire of robes and tunic. Today he was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing a pair of ratty old cutoff denim shorts. The once blue fabric was faded to almost white, thinly stretched around the crotch and buttocks from too many washings. The shorts hung low over his lean hips, accentuating the V of his body, from the top of his broad shoulders down to the muscular strength of his thighs. Nabil had found he preferred moving around in them rather than his normal black baggy pants.  
  
He took a long swallow of the sweet/tart liquid; his throat worked convulsively, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as it quenched his thirst. He titled his dark head back as the condensation from the outside of the glass pearled into tiny droplets of water. They cascaded down his hand and onto his tattooed chest, skimming over skin that was gradually darkening in color, thanks to the strong rays of the sun. Its wayward journey continued as it dribbled down over one brown nipple, slid over the defined abdomen and finally disappeared beneath the waistband.  
  
A warm breeze suddenly blew through the yard and it brought the rich smell of freshly cut grass, honeysuckle and of lavender. There was the distant sound of the neighborhood children laughing and playing, of nearby birds chirping to one another as they flew from tree to bush. Nabil turned his face into the breeze and smiled, remembering another time not so long ago when he had a surprise visit from her while he worked in the yard. That had turned out to be a day he would remember for quite some time since they ended up making love with wild reckless abandon inside the kitchen.  
  
She had caught him unawares as he had methodically worked on the rocks that bordered the extensive garden. Head bent low, muscles rippling under glistening skin as he replaced each and every stone, he never heard her come through the wooden gate. Never thought that she would take the nearby hose and spray him with a blissful shower of cool water. His reaction had been swift and precise, lunging forward to capture her in a wet embrace. Recovering from his initial surprise, he was amazed at how their bodies instantly meshed together, the joining of two halves that had been separated far too long. Impulsively he gave her with a sweet kiss. One kiss turned into another, the passion that existed between them flared up, adding to the flames of desire that always seemed kindled between them. He wasn't quite sure how they got into the kitchen; all he knew was at that moment he needed to feel the silky softness of her skin under his hands. He had longed to bury himself deep within her womanly heat and he could still hear her soft cries of pleasure as he took her leaning over the kitchen table again and again. Until they were both were sated and spent. He kept that memory safely tucked away in his heart for remembrance on occasions when he found himself missing her.  
  
Nabil wiped his face and his eyes swept over the backyard area, pleased to see the garden taking shape. While there were obvious touches of her gardening skill that bloomed all over the deck and garden, Nabil could see his influence as well becoming apparent. He felt a strong sense of satisfaction working with his hands, like he was completing something.  
  
He heard a soft whine of complaint come from inside the home and he looked up through the casement windows that overlooked the backyard. Her two dogs stared out back at him. He grinned when he had realized earlier in the summer that the dogs had no reservations whatsoever about running amuck through the garden, trampling flowers and knocking down the stone border. That was the basis of his project; to replace each and every stone till it was sound once again.  
  
"La," he called out to them. "You're not coming outside yet so you can run all over my hard work. It took me most of the morning to repair the damage you two did last night while playing."  
  
His break over, Nabil walked back to the garden and knelt down. He continued the slow process of removing each layer of stone, pushing back the dirt and mulch, and then replacing them one at a time. His head was bent down on his work, the sun shinning on his hair and giving it highlights like the downy breast of a raven. Muscles undulated under glistening skin colored a deep rich brown as strong dexterous fingers pulled at one rock reluctant to leave its deep setting in the earth.  
  
Concentrating, he never heard the wooden gate open.... 


	7. Preview of Hero's 5

_Hopefully this is a treat for you all and I humbly submit a preview of what's to come in Hero's V.  The premise is still under thought/construction so if any of you have any ideas, please feel free to email me.  So far, the story line:  "Someone" has called forth a sub-priest of Imhotep named Marook-kye to engage the Medjai still recovering from the past battle in Hero's IV.  Marook's powers are close to Imhotep's but will never surpass our Immy; instead his power is forever controlled and dominated by an amulet.   The scenes below take place after Marook-kye has been resurrected and of course, he has to attack his ancient and most hated foe, the Medjai.  And what better way to cripple the Medjai than to go after its most promising commander, __Ardeth__Bay__?  _

_On this snippet I am putting a disclaimer since I am borrowing heavily from Lord of the Rings.  I will readily admit my Wraiths are close to what appears in The Fellowship of the Ring and I am using a garbled language of Elf and Arabic.  That is of my own making and I mean no disrespect to the faithful fans of LOTR and J.R.R. Tolkien.  No infringement intended against Tolkien and New Line Cinema.  All other characters are mine all mine.  _

_This turned out to be one heck of a snippet…..lol_

_~*~_

As the sun sank down into the horizon, and darkness fell, the wind picked up near an ancient temple of the worshippers of the High Priest. Its followers almost gone, the temple was close to ruin thanks to the ever vigilant efforts of the Medjai.  As the wind howled sounding like a wounded animal, the ground near the base of the temple began to shift and move. Small mounds of sand rolled and heaved, trying to spew forth something vile and unholy as the winds increased in strength and ferocity. 

An inhuman cry suddenly pierced the air and a pit opened up, a yawning chasm in which the black armored head of a horse suddenly emerged.  Its sharp front hooves cut through the remaining constraints of its tomb and it surged forward. The animals body bucked once and cleared its sandy grave, a dark rider clinging to the saddle with unnatural ease.  The horse leaped out into the open sand beyond the temple and skidded to a halt, steam blowing from its nose, its eyes red like the fires of hell. The cloaked rider shook the sand from its robes and reached down, making sure its sword was firmly sheathed, its dagger still in its boot.  
  
Mornâ rokkô rikib had escaped its sepulcher and had heard the call of its master. It raised its featureless face to the East and kicked its horse into a gallop.  
  
Rider and beast surged forward and galloped across the sand dunes, only one destination in mind, focused on one goal. It would not rest, it would not sleep nor feel pain. It was fed by supernatural hatred, ancient enchantment, spells and evil...a Wraith summoned by Marook-kye and it heeded only one call, one desire.   
  
To kill.

~*~

Darkness.   
  
'itm Dilim.  
  
Mori.  
  
The brilliance of the sun now gone, the night sky was filled with stars and billowing puffs of clouds which sometimes obscured the glare of the full moon. The wind whistled over the sands, moaning like a lost soul.  It swirled up small piles of the granules then released them to scatter in the wind, as if a child's hand were tossing them.  
  


The Wraith crested the top of one dune and pulled its lathered beast to a stop. The horse nodded its mighty head up and down, spittle flying from its mouth, its anxious mood imitating its rider.  It stomped the ground and hooves that dripped sweat and supernatural liquid sprayed black dots across the once pristine and virgin sand. The animal shifted its weight, waiting for the signal to ride. 

  
The Wraith paused, listening intently for the call of its master to roll up from the village below.  The dark hooded face was as deep and as infinite as any black hole or tomb...featureless and cold. It stared down at the Medjai settlement and hissed into the wind, "Ana hae ndangwetha e instanZar fa intu amr..."*

~*~

Marook-kye shifted in his hiding place and felts his servant's presence, the overwhelming desire to kill, its sword sharp and ready to do his bidding as it waited. He heard the whispered confirmation float to him on the breeze.  
  
"Weha ta amr, ya ortur..."** the Wraith had sighed.  
  
Marook-kye answered with all the hatred and insanity that filled his being. "Ija! Ija! Ija la me, ana mornâ rokkô rikib ana amr ...nunoa!"***

   
With the last word, Marook-kye's arms fell down to his sides as his call echoed throughout the night.  He saw the warriors grouped in the middle of the settlement square spin around in surprise to find the enemy finally in their midst.  Ardeth shouted his battle cry and drew his scimitar in one fluid motion, the sound echoing through the air as his fellow warriors took up the call to arms.  

    
"Come, let us play..." Marook-kye crooned as he looked down and saw the first warrior approach him with scimitar raised.  With one fist he swatted the black robed body away and waded into battle, his sole purpose to find Bay and destroy him. 

Ardeth ran at the priest from the side, his scimitar flashing around his body in an arc meant to decapitate but instead, his blow was easily deflected.  Ardeth's eyes widened in alarm with he heard his family's name hissed from the creatures black lips. Suddenly he was on the defensive as it strode towards him, eyes glowing with the unholy fire of evil. It flicked off the attacking Medjai as if they were nothing, its gaze never leaving Ardeth's face.    
  
"Have at me then demon…." Ardeth muttered and stood his ground. He brought up his weapon as the creature's hand reached for his throat. 

~*~

The sound of wood groaning caught the attention of everyone inside the building and an eerie hush fell over them all. Eyes darted to the front door and back door, widening in amazement when the wood started to swell, convulse, expand and contract...each swell mightier than the last. The doors started to breath as if a living thing, each convulsion stretching the fibers thin and ready to break.   
  
The doors breathed faster, shuddered and shook the hinges off the sides, the doorknobs rattled out of the wood work. Something was coming in and with one final gigantic implosion they blew outwards....leaving a gaping hole where the darkness could slither in.  
  
Screams of terror rippled through the night as the women scattered for cover, trying to reach each other in an attempt to keep the other safe. Warriors chosen to guard the women moved them into a corner while Jameel and Makin prepared to meet the enemies advance.   Bodies poised and tense with anticipation, the only sounds in the room now were the muffled sounds crying and prayers.  Jameel turned to comfort one woman but stopped when they all heard it.

Heavy footsteps.   
  
Slow.  
  
Measured. 

Each one sounding unnaturally loud in the silence that suddenly filled the room. A Wraith at each door slowly glided in, ducked their hooded heads under the doorway, their long swords already unsheathed and held in front of them.  

The Wraith in the front of the room passed over the frightened women, emitting a shrieked command that made everyone cover their ears from the pain. The rider at the back of the room slowly advanced on the people hiding in one corner, its sword down and ready to draw blood, its black claw-like hand reaching ….

~*~

 Translation: 

  *I have answered and wait for your command

**I wait, my master 

   ***Come! Come! Come to me, my black horse riders...now! 

  
  



	8. Warrior Mode

_Alas we're near the end of my snippets.  Boo hoo.  LOL  ___

_The good news is I have another warrior snippet to submit, and more good news is the next one I may submit is something I call "Medjai Spin the Bottle."_

_But for now, have fun reading this one.  Sometimes writing these little snippets has helped me sharpen my skills and technique in writing action.  And of course, can you blame me for always having Ardeth come rescue the woman in distress?  Who can resist a handsome desert warrior that comes in and literally sweeps you off your feet?  I also noticed I just had to describe Ardeth's physical appearance, as if we don't know it by heart by now but what the heck…I love writing about his face.  LOL _

_So enjoy this little story I call "Warrior Mode."  And as always thanks for the reviews.  _

_~*~_

She stood paralyzed with fear in the middle of what remained of the camp, oblivious to the chaos that surrounded her from all sides. Men were running and shouting, tents were on fire and the night air was filled with thick black smoke.  Gunfire erupted in short bursts, making her subconsciously flinch with terror.  Her world was bathed in reds, oranges and shade of black as it was slowly consumed by fire.  

  
_"Run, run, run,"_ sang the litany of panic in her mind and her hands clenched into fists at her side. Yet she was unable to move.  Her legs felt heavy, mired in quicksand, her chest heaved with each breath and her eyes were wild with fright.  Her gaze swept over the carnage until she saw her own death bearing down on her.  A bandit, face contorted and obscene with the lust for killing, charged forward with his rifle aimed directly at her chest.

With an evil grin he pulled the trigger.  

~*~

The warriors chose to remain impartial and watched from the ridge above as the foreigners camp was attacked by desert bandits. Dealing with the ferocity of these men would certainly send the same message the Medjai would have delivered to the people below - leave or die.   They remained impassive as the destruction escalated, the tide of the battle showing the outcome would still be favorable.  The weak and defenseless were fleeing away from the fighting thus upholding part of the Medjai oath.

  
Until the woman staggered out of one tent.   
  


Ardeth Bay watched with growing alarm as it became quite evident that her life was in danger.   
  
"Why does she not flee?" wondered his Second.  
  
His response was to kick his heels and his stallion surged forward, down the rocky slope as pebbles and stones followed in its wake, skipping down the incline. Man and horse raced across the open desert, his dark eyes intently watching her try to move, take one faltering step and he silently urged her to take another. He saw the oval of her face become clearer, the dark curtain of her hair waving in the breeze like a silken banner, and the light fabric of her clothes clung to her lush womanly shape.  He saw the comprehension register on her face and his gaze followed her line of vision until he saw the raised rifle pointing straight at her heart.  He urged Sabeeh to gallop faster and felt his beloved horse respond to his silent command with a burst of speed. He leaned over to the side with his arm out.  
  
~*~  
  
Insane laughter bubbled up from her throat when she caught sight of a new threat, a dark apparition bearing down on her from one side. Her gaze darted between the bandit intent on shooting her and this new danger.  But the sudden paralysis that held her body prisoner would not let her escape.  She closed her eyes and willingly submitted to her fate, having no idea that the outcome had already been determined from one simple act.

  
"Behold a dark rider..." she murmured and waited for death.

A second later she heard the crack of the rifle but instead of feeling the slug enter her flesh, a hard arm grabbed her around the waist.  She gasped and heard a grunt of pain.  Then her world tilted precariously as she seemed to be flying through the air, her feet dangling off the ground.  Her eyes flew open in shock and she stared down in amazement to find she was anchored against a horse, the ground passing by with sickening speed. The burning remains of the camp retreated behind them, black clouds of smoke still billowing into the night sky. She squirmed, tried to shift her body to ease her discomfort and placed her hands on her rescuers arm.   
  
"Do not move...." he hissed in her ear, his voice deep and richly accented, the last word broken with a hitch of pain.   
  
She obeyed but shifted again when the ground slowly started to move up under her feet. The arm that once held her so tightly loosened and before she could react, she was tumbling again, falling onto the hard sand.  She hit hard, rolled and a groan of pain slid past her clenched teeth.  Something fell by her side and she scrambled out of the way until she came to a halt. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw the dark rider laying a few feet away from her, his body unnaturally still.  She climbed to her knees and stayed there, drawing in gulps of air as she stared at him, confusion marring her features. Her mind swirled with questions:  who was he, why did he help her? And should she help him?  
  


Cautiously she moved towards him until she was by his side. He was dressed in long black robes, his broad chest covered by ammunition belts and bandoliers in the shape of an X, strange looking swords strapped to his side. He wore a turban that partially covered his long, dark hair and a piece of cloth covered his face.

  
With a will of its own and forgetting her own recent brush with death, her hand slowly reached out and gently tugged down the face covering, revealing a face that made a thrilling tremor race through her battered body.  He was handsome and exotic looking with dark, crescent shaped tattoo's graced both cheeks.  His pale face was framed by a trimmed goatee and involuntarily her fingertips brushed against those dark markings.  Her gaze ran over his lean muscular body and soon discovered the reason for his unconsciousness - a bloody bullet wound in one shoulder.  

She gently probed it and suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed hers in a strong grip, making her shriek in terror. He held it prisoner as his eyes, glittering with a suppressed and barely contained energy bore into hers.  He pulled her forward until she was pressed against his chest, her breasts flattened against his lean, hard body.  Their faces were close, so close she could imagine inhaling his sweet breath, and released one of her own. Her eyes centered on his full, bottom lip then wandered up to find him still intently staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.  Her fingertips played over his face again, lingering on those lips that were now parted and she had to stop herself from dipping her head and supping from them, like drinking sweet forbidden nectar.  
  
His hand crept up into her hair and applied a gentle pressure on the back of her neck giving her all the permission needed.  She bent her head, brushing her lips against his even as she inwardly sighed with contentment.  They tested and tasted each other's mouth until the kiss grew ravenous, abruptly ending when she accidentally brushed his shoulder wound. He groaned from the contact and almost passed out from the pain. The sound of approaching riders broke them from their reverie and before she could react, she was surrounded by twenty men, all dressed in black.   
  


She was once again a target they now had aimed in their sites.


	9. Warrior Mode Part II

_Never let it be said that I don't have a heart.  All of your reviews have prompted this add on to the "Warrior Mode" snippet but I must warn you, this is what happens when you ask me something.  LOL My mind kicks into action mode with all kinds of scenario's, chaos ensues and more characters are introduced.  Oh you haven't heard? ;-)   I have a stable full of handsome Medjai warriors running around in my mind. LOL Forgive me if I spring them upon you all of a sudden but they are coming up in the next few chapters of Hero's. And how could I not utilize Nabil?  _

_So enjoy this preview of them and of course, enjoy the continuation of Ardeth in "Warrior Mode Part II"_

_Ps- and oh yes, more Hero's is coming, yes indeedy.  Oh my yes…muwhahahaha LOL_

_~*~_

"Where…is she?" Ardeth gasped and flinched when several pairs of hands probed the bloody entrance wound on his shoulder.  He stared up at each of the three warriors that were tending to him and tried to determine from their facial expressions the severity of it but eventually gave up.  Only Nabil who knelt by his side met his commander's intense gaze and Ardeth saw quite clearly the concern reflected in his friend's eyes.  He tried to contain the groan of pain when they pushed him up into a sitting position and applied pressure to the exit wound.

"The woman is with Jameel," Nabil replied.  He ripped a section from his robe and with the help of Honored Second Berin al Usama, sub-commander of the tribe of the Fifth; they wrapped Ardeth's shoulder as best they could.  

"He needs a healer," Berin's deep voice rumbled up from within his chest.  He knelt on the other side of Ardeth and glanced at Nabil, the first signs of worry deeply etched in his dark eyes.  But he held his silence as his large hands quickly and efficiently tied the makeshift bandage.

"We must leave this place and quickly," Jericho ibn Sakhr stated and slowly withdrew his scimitar from its sheath.  He stood next to Berin as his dark gaze scanned the desert horizon.  Twilight was descending and with it, his warrior instincts warned him the bandits were not done with their raid yet.  He looked over to the remaining warriors that held the horses and nodded at his sahib, Dharr al Rushdi.  A silent understanding passed between them and Dharr gave a silent hand gesture for the rest of the Medjai to mount. 

~*~

"Drink," the curly haired warrior offered her a canteen with a boyish smile and she blinked in surprise.  She took it without hesitation and took a sip, too numb to think beyond the moment.  To scared to dwell on the recent past, especially the death of her colleges and the guides.  She stared at him unabashedly and determined he seemed to be the kindest and friendliest out of the stern faced men that now seemed to be her allies.

"What is your name?" she asked with a weak smile, surprised that she responded to his dimpled grin.  Vaguely she realized his eyes were as dark as chocolate, and as mysterious as the night.  

"Ana ismee Jameel ibn Hisein," he replied and gently tilted the canteen downwards.  "Take small sips or else you may become ill." 

She suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth as a hysterical giggle of laughter bubbled up from inside.  "I may become ill?" she asked sarcastically and rolled her eyes.  "Somehow I think that would be the least of my worries considering I was almost shot by…by this man who God knows what he is then rescued by your friend who I must say really hurt my ribs when he grabbed me and almost flung me onto his horse and did you see…"

Jameel's eyes widened in surprise at her sudden outburst and he glanced over at a tall, silent warrior who stood watching over them, his arms folded across his huge chest.  He shrugged helplessly and the warrior coughed once to hide his laughter.  "She is nervous, ya ukh," he explained.

"Indeed," Makin murmured and turned to mount his horse.

"I am not nervous, I am scared to death," she cried.  She shoved the canteen back at Jameel and jumped to her feet, determined to speak to the man who had undoubtedly saved her life.  She ignored Jameel's startled shout from behind her; anger over the injustice and sorrow from the death of her associates fueled her actions but blinded her logic.  It gave her a sense of false bravado and she stormed across the sand until she came up to the small group of black robed men still huddled around a figure sitting on the ground.  It never registered in her mind that she should have used caution in approaching them.  Never occurred to her that she was considered an outsider, a foreigner or khawagat in their land and she should try to be diplomatic.  All she knew was that she wanted answers and wouldn't be satisfied until _someone gave them.   _

Her advance was effectively stopped by a huge mountain of a man who stood solidly in her path, his arms folded across his massive chest.  She gasped in surprise at his sudden, foreboding appearance and her eyes grew round with shock when she realized he definitely had the height advantage.  He towered over her, the scowl on his face intimidating and uncompromising, the dark tattoos on his skin making him look exotic and savage.  

She tried to step around him but her path was blocked by another warrior, not as tall or fiercesome as the first but nonetheless successful in stopping her advance.  He stood as his comrade did, shoulder to shoulder, silent and indifferent.  

"Oh for pete's sake, must you all do the same thing?  I just want to talk to him," she sighed exasperated and pointed to the wounded man.  

"Berin, Jericho…" called out a weak voice.  "Waqaf la-taHt."

Silently the warriors broke apart and she hurried forward, ignoring the sensation that something horrible was going to happen and soon.  She knelt down by his side, next to another warrior who stared at her with gray colored eyes and she blinked in surprise at this discovery.  In his steady gaze she found no malice or censure for actions.  He gave her a brief nod but did not relinquish his hold on the wounded warrior who now leaned heavily against him for support.

"Please can you tell me what's going on?" she asked and reached out to touch Ardeth's shoulder.  

"Do not fear…my men will…take care of you," Ardeth replied and fought to remain conscious.  "Even if I am…unable too."

"But I don't understand.  Who are you and why…" her voice trailed away when she thought she heard the sound of distant thunder.

Berin and Jericho heard it as well and they stood poised for a brief moment in time, neither warrior wishing to believe the outcome of this skirmish could end unfavorably.

"Get Ardeth to the horses," Jericho advised Berin and turned around to face this new threat.  

~*~

The first shot rang out just as Jameel had reached his horse and he leaped into the saddle.  He muttered a dark curse when he saw Makin's body suddenly stiffen and almost topple off his mount.  Sending a silent prayer to Allah for His help, Jameel kicked his horse into a gallop and raced to his friend's side.  He was able to stop the warrior from falling to the ground but his success was short-lived when the bandits surged over a tall crest of a dune, a hundred throats filling the air with their battle cries.

"iHna lazim mishwar!" Jameel shouted to his fellow warriors.  He took the lead rein from Makin's horse as the warrior slumped over the horse's neck and with the animal in tow, rode over to his fallen commander.

~*~

_"iHna lazim mishwar!"_

Nabil reacted instantly to the shout and pulled Ardeth to his feet.  Berin swiftly appeared by his side and despite Ardeth's weak protests; the sub-commander hefted the warrior over his shoulder as if he weighed no more than a child.  As Berin raced towards the nearest horse, the metallic ring of metal pulled from it's sheathe announced Nabil's scimitar was free from its scabbard.  He reached for the woman and pulled her into the safety of his arms.

"Go," he urged her and together they ran for the nearest horse.  

Jericho followed behind them, his own weapon raised in puny defense as the bandits charged closer, their rifles blazing with round after round of ammunition fired.  He felt the breeze from one bullet pass by his ear and instinctively ducked then turned to make certain Ardeth was seated on a horse.  He watched as Berin slapped the animal's hind quarters and it leaped away, guided by another warrior to safety.  He took a few steps backwards, guarding Nabil's back as the warrior pushed the unwilling woman onto another animal.  A few moments and several screamed protests later, she was safely on her way with the rest of the Medjai, away from the oncoming flood of bandits.

Nabil backed himself up against Jericho and waited his face grim with determination, his weapon held point out and ready for battle.  Berin joined them a moment later and together the three warriors bravely waited as their own deaths closed in on them from all sides.

Each man took a small measure of comfort with the knowledge that their chieftain was safely riding away from the danger and that they as Medjai were honoring their oath…hatta maut.  

~*~

Translations:

Ana ismee – my name is 

ya ukh – my brother 

Waqaf la-that – stand down

iHna lazim mishwar – we must ride

hatta maut – till death 


	10. Warrior Mode Part III

_A little bird named Deana perched on my shoulder one day and for some reason, inspired me to continue this snippet.  Which is rapidly turning into a short story!  Not that I mind but I do have some other writing that's been languishing far too long.  LOL  By the way I feel compelled to add the usual disclaimers and please don't use my own characters without permission.  And with the introduction of some new ones, I warned you all – I have a whole lot of Medjai running around in my mind.  LOL_

_So with a flourish and drum roll, I give you the third installment of "Warrior Mode" and yes, this will end soon so I can get back to Hero's.  Thanks for reading and enjoy._

_Ps – If anyone has an idea for a title to this I'd love to hear it…LOL_

_~*~_

She stood paralyzed with indecision in the middle of the makeshift encampment the warriors had swiftly constructed and seemed almost oblivious to the frenzied activity that had erupted.  Yet she was never more keenly aware when it became apparent that she wasn't the only one who had suffered the loss of friends on this terrible day.  Rider-less horses straggled in alone or in pairs and were swiftly captured by the warriors and then led away and hobbled nearby.  Although she was rapidly learning these strange men were quite adapt at hiding their emotions, a sense of sorrow hung in the air.  Each new arrival could mean only one thing – the death of these men, which seemed pointless and confusing.    

Was she partially responsible?  The expedition had been thoroughly warned by the hired guides from Cairo about the penalty for excavating the tombs located near the city of Thebes.  She and her fellow researchers had originally scoffed at the stories that told of the guardians of the tombs and of the desert; fierce, tattooed warriors dressed in black and exceptionally skilled in battle.  They had all laughed, blissfully ignorant and had never thought that the real danger came from the bandits.  She believe them to be were lawless men or nomads who had kept hidden and patiently waited for the foreigners to unearth the once hidden treasures and artifacts.  And when the hard part of task had been completed, they had swooped in like vultures and killed or captured indiscriminately.   

She felt a shiver of apprehension race down her spine as she recalled the narrow escape from her own demise and wrapped her arms around her body to ward off the chill.  Her thoughts drifted back to her rescuer: the feel of his strong-arms around her waist, the odd remembrance of his scent, a heady combination of male, spice and warmth.  The heated passion that had infused her body when she responded to his kiss…

She needed to know her dark rider was alive, that he had somehow survived the reluctant retreat away from the danger and yearned for the reassurance she would see looking into his eyes.  Quickly her gaze swept over the encampment until she saw his warriors had once again surrounded him and his name sprang to her lips in an anguished whisper, "Ardeth…"

~*~

"Hold him gently, ya ukh, and be mindful of his wounds," Dharr patiently instructed his saHib Solman as the warrior slowly lifted the unconscious body of Ardeth from his horse.  

"Ardeth ya ra'is," Solman replied fervently as he obeyed Dharr's instructions and effortlessly cradled the body of Ardeth against his broad chest.  His eyes widened in surprise when his hand brushed against the sticky fabric of Ardeth's robes, the congealed blood seeping through his fingers and he looked at Dharr for reassurance.  

"Aiwa, you are correct.  Now take him to the healer's tent and do not worry," Dharr said as he continued his instructions, "Ardeth will be fine."

"Dharr ya saHib," Solman murmured quietly and turned away from Dharr, his purpose now focused solely on complying with his command.  

As the giant warrior slowly lumbered away with his burden towards the healer's tent, Dharr gave a weary sigh as Sharif appeared by his side.

"How many are unaccounted for?" he asked as they slowly followed Solman towards the tent.  With growing horror, Sharif realized that the path they followed in Solman's wake was splattered with tiny ruby colored droplets of Ardeth's life blood that had spattered across the sand.

"We have lost Talal and Yusef that we know of, and Nabil, Berin and Jericho are still missing," Dharr replied.  He glanced back to where the woman had been standing since she had first arrived at the encampment and he fought against the anger that settled in his heart.   Loyal to his people and to his chief, Dharr was beginning to find it hard to reconcile the loss of his fellow warriors and possibly his chief against the life of one mere woman.  

"What in the name of Allah happened?" Sharif couldn't help but ask as the two warriors stopped in front of the entrance to the tent.

Dharr didn't have an immediate response as he turned and stared across the encampment at the woman he believed to be the reason for so much sorrow.  "We honored our vow and obeyed the law of the desert: to protect those who are weak and defenseless. I can only hope that performing our sacred duty will not cost more than we can afford to pay." 


	11. Warrior Mode Part IV

_Ok so maybe I should call this the "Never Ending Snippet" and once again blame Deana.  LOL Here's another installment and I hope you enjoy.  Thanks for the reviews and to the reader who wanted to know how to access __Land__ of __Dreams__, a good friend of mine put the link in her review for the last chapter. _

_Speaking of her, Ladybug has graciously given me permission to use her warriors in the upcoming chapters of Hero's 4.  So how could I not resist in using Kedar Ishaq to ride in and save the day?  LOL Usual disclaimers apply and yes, I have a healer named Raphael who has a story of his own waiting to be told.  LOL _

_Onwards to "Warrior Mode Part IV"…_

_~*~_

Raphael stood in the center of the tent and directed the tide of warriors that flowed around him.  His mind sorted through the wounded and quickly determined who needed immediate care.  As other healers rushed over to aid Jameel as he brought Makin over to a nearby pallet, he astutely observed that despite the grimace of pain on the young warrior's face, his injury was not life threatening.    

Satisfied that Makin was being cared for, Raphael turned around just as Ardeth was gently deposited onto another pallet.  Although Solman had carried Ardeth with infinite care, the movement nonetheless invoked a moan of pain from Ardeth and he regained consciousness just as Raphael bent down by his side to assess the injuries.  

"Sahil, sahil, ya ra'is," Raphael murmured gently to Ardeth.  He leaned over the weakly struggling warrior and with a fatherly tenderness, stroked his warm brow.  "Save your strength, you will need it for your recovery."

"I cannot…rest until I know…the fate of my men," Ardeth replied, the words mingled with gasps as he fought to remain conscious.  Awareness ebbed and flowed, habitual instinct warned him to rise and take command but his trembling body refused to obey.  He tried to sit up and rest on his elbows but the pain was too intense.  Instead, he fell back, unable to stop the cry of agony that spilled from his throat.

"Rest you must," Raphael gently contradicted and with a slight nod of his head, Solman reappeared by Ardeth's side.  Solman placed his large hands on Ardeth's good shoulder, effectively and carefully keeping the warrior from rising again.  "I need to tend to your injuries now."

"Do what you must, healer," Dharr said as he and Sharif stood at the foot of the pallet.  He tried to maintain his stoic composure but seeing his chief literally shaking from pain made his last comment come out hoarse with grief.  "We cannot lose Ardeth." 

"I will do what is necessary but I fear the wounds need be to be cauterized with a heated blade," Raphael murmured as he peeled back one section of Ardeth's bloody robe.  "Then I will need dressings soaked with camphor, cloves and cinnamon to fight the infection that invariably will set in." 

"Where…is Nabil?" Ardeth asked as he struggled not to surrender to the overwhelming desire for sleep.  His head swam and he felt his stomach roll with nausea; the pain that burned from his shoulder all but stole his breath away. Coherent thought was rapidly becoming impossible but the need to know the fate of his men, of his warrior brothers pushed Ardeth to test the limits of his physical endurance.  

An uncomfortable silence followed the question as Raphael gestured for help in pushing Ardeth to his side so he could examine the other wound.  He glanced up at Dharr and Sharif, and then frowned a moment later when he realized the warrior's reluctance to answer meant only one thing – the loss of more brothers.  

"Nabil?" Ardeth asked again, unable to hold back the groan that slipped past clenched teeth from Raphael's ministrations.

"He has…not yet returned," Sharif replied, hesitating to tell his chief that one of his most trusted commanders and friend may have not survived the attack.

"We will send out a patrol…" Dharr's suggestion was unexpectedly interrupted by the shout of a sentry announcing the arrival of riders into the encampment.  Tentative hope bloomed in Dharr's heart that the missing had returned and he hurried over to the tent flaps, his hand almost touching the canvas to push it aside.  Suddenly they were thrown open and he stepped back a few paces as the large form of Berin ducked inside.   

Surprised and excited shouts of "il Hamdo lil-lah" filled the air as the warriors crowded around the once believed missing men.  Dharr eagerly took the weight of Jericho away from Berin and helped his friend hobble over to the nearest pallet.  He gave a silent prayer of thanks to Allah that his sahib only sustained a minor wound on his right leg and shouted for some assistance from a healer.  

Sharif went to offer his help to Berin but the warrior refused, his face stoically grim as he stiffly turned away and walked out through the flaps. Sharif tried to follow but stepped backwards when Berin reappeared, this time supporting the weight of Nabil who walked beside him.

"Ana mabsoot, ya ukh," Nabil tried to reason with his sahib but Berin stubbornly refused to listen and the two of them argued until Nabil was finally sitting on a pallet.  "I have only a few minor cuts…" 

"You are injured," Berin's voice rumbled up deep from within his chest.  He had to shout to be heard over the cries of his fellow warriors as the cry of "il Hamdo lil-lah" echoed through the tent's interior.  One large hand reached out and grabbed the nearest healer and directed him straight towards Nabil with the growled command of, "You will look after my sahib, hal-waqt ajab."

"Ya ra'is do you see?" Raphael whispered to Ardeth and gently cradled Ardeth's head in his lap.  "Nabil has returned along with Berin and Jericho, Allah be praised."

Silence immediately returned to the tent as the warriors waited expectantly for Ardeth to respond.  He pushed past the pain that had blanketed his thoughts and weakly raised a hand, gesturing for the men to come closer.  "Kif?" he whispered when Berin and Nabil were by his side.  "How did…you…?"

"It was by the grace of God, ya ukh," Nabil replied as he knelt down by Ardeth's side.  He frowned when he saw the pale complexion of Ardeth's face and the waves of pain that occasionally washed over it.  Gently he took Ardeth's hand with his own and believed that by this contact alone, it would lend his wounded friend some much needed strength.  

"Reinforcements arrived, led by Honored Second Ishaqfrom the tribe of the First," Berin replied and leaned over Nabil's shoulder.   "The bandits were repelled by the force of Kedar's assault and will never again attack the innocent and unsuspecting."

With a heartfelt sigh of relief, Ardeth could now finally cave into the darkness that had been threatening to consume his consciousness.  Most of his men had safely returned and as Raphael prepared the blade to seal the entrance wound on his shoulder, his last coherent thought was of the woman who had seemed to be the catalyst of these recent events.

As his head lolled to one side, Ardeth's last whisper was "Where…is she?"

~*~ 

Translations:

Sahil – easy

Ya ra'is – my chief

il Hamdo lil-lah – God be praised

Ana mabsoot – I am fine

hal-waqt ajab – now please

Kif – how (Syrian dialect)


	12. Sparring

__

The beginning of the end…booo hoo. LOL As I've warned, this is the last of my snippets. This is part one of two and it involves Nabil and his second Berin doing what I would imagine all warriors do quite often…sparring. 

As for my never-ending snippet, that will reappear as a possible short story but don't fear, it will return. I just have to figure out a name for it. ;-) In the meantime, enjoy this and as always, thanks for reading. 

~*~

He stood in the center of the ring with his legs braced apart. His eyes were closed; dark head titled back as he enjoyed the warmth of the sun as it shone down on his body. The warrior was shirtless, his skin already turning a darker hue, the tattoo's that graced his lean body standing out in vivid contrast. His hands hung down by his sides, one holding the blade of his choice, a weapon he learned how to handle in his youth, its form becoming an extension of his body. Its metal gleamed bright as the rays of the sun caught its freshly polished surface and bounced off, fractions of white that easily caught the eye.   
  
Nabil felt healthy and strong; for the first time in a long while, he felt almost invincible. He had emerged from his trials forged stronger than any steel and at the moment, he was filled with the quiet joy of living. And an eagerness to test his newfound strength. What better way to test it than against the man who had become more than his second in command in the preceding weeks, he had become like a brother.   
  
"Are you sure you wish to do this?" Berin's deep rumbling voice came from Nabil's side, interrupting his thoughts. Nabil opened his eyes and looked at his saHib, a slight smile dancing across his face. As imposing as ever, his massive body already exposed to the warmth of the sun, Berin's excitement and pleasure could be seen dancing in his dark eyes. Both men had enjoyed sparring sessions in the past, both relishing the chance to test the endurance of their bodies, honing their skills.   
  
"Aiwa, I am sure." Nabil replied and took a step backwards, his arm swinging his scimitar in a few short circles. "Did you bring the daggers?"  
  
"Aiwa, they are over by edge of the corral. This will attract attention," Berin predicted and also started to warm up, the muscles under his skin rippling, bearing silent testimony to his incredible strength.   
  
Just then they heard Jameel's greeting and both walked over to him, exchanged pleasantries then asked him to keep score for the first session. When one warrior would hit a key point on the body or strike, it was Jameel's job to call out "nuqta" or point. If a blow was taken that was considered foul or not by the rules, Jameel would call out "la nuqta" and points would be subtracted.  
  
"May I see them?" Jameel asked eagerly, eyeing the bundle Berin had placed on the ground near his robes and belts.   
  
"Of course," Berin replied and a moment later, retrieved the daggers, unwrapping them from their protective cloth covering. The three warriors stared down at the gift the legendary weapons master Abul-Muhaimin had bestowed upon Berin and Jameel reached out to run the tip of his finger down one of the blade's handles.   
  
"Come," Nabil smiled at Jameel's quiet awe of the weapons then poked Berin's shoulder. "Let us have a few warm-up sessions to determine when I can start using the dagger." He walked out to the center of the makeshift arena, and pivoted rocking back on the balls of his feet, his scimitar held loose but comfortably in one hand.  
  
Berin couldn't hide the grin on his face and he shook his head. His walked out and joined Nabil, doing his own warm up exercises and when done, he crouched and waited. "You are that confident, then?"  
  
"Aiwa," Nabil replied and took up a similar stance across from his saHib. "Ibtada."


	13. Sparring Part II

__

Part II…the sparring continues between friends. Thanks for the reviews. ;-)

~*~

The sound of metal clashing against metal cut through the air, shattering the peaceful calm of the morning as Nabil's scimitar jabbed at Berin's chest and was blocked with a powerful counter stroke. The edge of the blades slid along each others length, the sound very much like a nail being dragged down a piece of metal as the warriors broke apart, dancing back on their feet.   
  
Nabil's wry grin matched Berin as the two men eyed each other, both debating on when to call the warm-up over and begin the true test of strength. They circled the other, their bodies incredibly light and agile despite great size and strength.   
  
Berin nodded his head to the left, one corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. "We have company. Did I not predict this would attract attention?" Berin suddenly pivoted to the right and jabbed his scimitar forward, purposely trying to goad Nabil into engaging with a counter move. He chuckled when his ploy failed and his blade was effectively blocked with a strong sweep from Nabil's weapon.   
  
Nabil spared a glance around and saw two warriors arrive at the corral and couldn't resist the taunt. "Afraid that I will humiliate you in front of an audience?" he replied with a grin and suddenly spun to his right, his scimitar coming around in an arc. Berin repelled it, the sound that followed deafening, and the grunts of both men from the force of the impact and deflection drowned out. Nabil's move left his side open for an attack and Berin tried to capitalize on his error. However, he was astonished when Nabil dove out of the way and rolled onto the sand, bouncing back up on his feet.   
  
Berin shook his head in amazement. "Perhaps we need to end this warm-up and start our true sparring session."  
  
"You are fighting like an old woman," Nabil chuckled, still moving around on the balls of his feet.   
  
"Was that a point?" Jameel called out and both warriors turned to shout "LA!" at him before returning their attention to each other.   
  
"An old woman, eh?" Berin's face finally broke into a rare but broad smile. He came to a sudden standstill, the broad expanse of his chest heaving slightly from the energy spent, his dark hair damp from the sweat on his forehead. He waited till Nabil had done likewise, then both warriors slowly saluted each other with their scimitars raised up in front of their faces. With a whistling slice, Berin brought his blade down and the two warriors suddenly lunged at each other, like two bulls charging across the sand.  
  
It would seem the warm-up had ended...  



	14. The Sparring Continues

__

The Sparring continues…;-)

Ell wrote part of the next installment and credit goes to her and JennLee for the use of the character Asim. This little sparring match is winding down I'm afraid and this is the next to the last installment. Boo hoo. LOL

I want to thank you all for reading and reviewing, this has been lots of fun and by the way, if you haven't read Ruse's "Stray Mummy Extras", please do, its a riot. 

And now onwards to our little story in progress…;-)

~*~

As Berin and Nabil began sparring in earnest, Asim leaned over the fence, watching with a knowledgeable and attentive eye. He admired the skill and artistry of their movements but as the match escalated into a fierce and realistic-looking mock battle, he tightly gripped the top rail of the fence. This was much less playful than the last time he had seen warriors sparring, much more ferocious, if only because they were very familiar with each other and their skills. Their blades whirled so quickly it seemed that they would surely injure one another without meaning to. At one point Nabil brought his scimitar around in a sharp sweep, a blur of white steel and almost too fast to see, and much too fast for Berin to block it. Asim heard a collective gasp come from a few warriors standing behind him that congealed into a groan of relief as Berin _did_ block it at the last possible second.

"They are insane," Ardeth suddenly spoke up from Asim's side. "Surely blood will be drawn by the session's end."

"I would not worry, ya ra'is" Asim replied knowingly. "It is only practice…only play. They are too skilled to injure one another." 

Ardeth nodded his acknowledgement and leaned forward, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement, his mind estimating each man's future move. A practiced eye followed this ballet of steel, expertise and endurance; his mouth twitched with a smile of pure enjoyment as he relished the idea of testing his own skill within the corral. 

As both men broke momentarily and circled each other deliberately, a corner of Nabil's mouth turned up and he jerked his head toward the fence. He said, "Some of our brothers have never seen us fight, the two of us together. Perhaps they are afraid, I think. Perhaps I should go easy on you, since your fans are watching."  
  
Berin snorted as he moved easily on the balls of his feet, tossing his scimitar from hand to hand. "I ought to take off your head for even thinking of such a thing."  
  
Nabil twirled his own weapon effortlessly as if it dangled from a string, and raised his eyebrows. "You ought to try." With a clash of swords, the battle was joined once again.

"Nuqta fa'inn Nabil," Jameel called out, surprised when he looked around at the spectators gathered. He calculated the total accumulation of points and made the announcement. "It's tied," he called out as murmurs of surprise swept through the crowd. 

Both warriors suddenly stopped and stood in the center of the corral, chests heaving as they dragged in large droughts of air. The scimitars now dangling loosely by their sides, Nabil took the chance to wipe his face with his forearm and Berin smirked, unable to stop himself from teasing his saHib.  
  
"Who has been fighting like an old woman now?" he asked, droplets of sweat hanging off the spiky tendrils of his hair, dripping down onto his chest.   
  
"I still have my head," Nabil retorted and both men turned as one to glance over at the daggers. His gaze slid back to Berin, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.   
  
"Only if we can stop for some water," Berin agreed. "The day grows hot and we will need to end this soon."

As Nabil and Berin slowly walked over to the fence where the daggers laid covered, a few warriors rushed forward to offer praise and pouches of water. Both men took long, healthy swallows then impulsively Nabil doused himself with the rest of it. The way the sun was hitting their glistening skin, covered with tiny droplets of water, almost made them seem mythical somehow. Perhaps they looked like the gods of old, battling on Mt Olympus. Two warriors, in their prime of physical health, bodies honed to muscular perfection...a fluid grace in every movement, with an underlying strength of steel. To see them at a glance, one would believe they were savages, with the exotic tattoo's adorning their bodies, the long shaggy hair and barely wearing any clothes except for their boots and baggy pants.  
  
Berin was more muscular, standing several inches taller than Nabil, the sheer size of his body a silent testament to his strength but few knew he could be as gentle as a lamb...unless provoked. All one had to do was see past his gruff exterior and realize that how he treated his small circle of close friends was an indication of his true nature. Like the bear one could imagine him to be sometimes, Berin dipped his head, then flung it back, droplets of water flying from his dark mane as he pushed it away from his eyes.   
  
Nabil was a few inches smaller, but just as muscular if not slightly leaner. Strong dexterous hands came up and shoved his hair away from his face, biceps briefly bulging, and the defined area of his ribs standing out in stark relief for a moment. A few rivulets of water still ran down his body, over the lean hips and disappeared into the damp waistband of his pants.  
  
They reached for the daggers, each man commenting to the other on technique, and whether they should still use the scimitars or not. 

"So much for lack of attention," Berin drawled out as they walked back into the center of the ring. "I had hoped for our first practice with these to be done with little or no spectators."  
  
"Shall we...decrease our skill level?" Nabil inquired. "To make up for the lack of knowledge?"  
  
Berin shook his head, one hand holding his scimitar, the other holding the three-pronged dagger as if it was an extension of his body. He flipped it in his hands a few times, judging the weight of it and making mental adjustments. "If I recall correctly, I have yet to take off your head for your earlier comments," he chuckled.  
  
Nabil also tested the weight and feel of his dagger, amazed and pleased at how quick the blade moved within his hand. The metal was a blur of flashing light in the sun as it spun in his hand, then came to rest. He adjusted the scimitar's balance in his other hand, then looked up at Berin, opening his arms wide.  
  
"Then have at me," Nabil commanded.


	15. The Final Sparring Session

__

This is the last installment for the sparring, giving credit to Ell and Jenn for using Asim. ;-) 

By the way, I have this wicked idea for a sparring match between Ardeth, Legolas, Haldir, Aragorn and anyone else I can think to throw into the mix. Believe me if this snippet comes to life, it will be posted here for you're reading enjoyment. 

There is a surprise for you all, a second upload of a small snippet I wrote not too long ago and it covers something that I doubt anyone really thought of…Medjai dating problems.

For now, enjoy this one and as always, while I may not give a shout out to all of you for reading, I do thank you for your reviews. 

~*~

If the noise from the scimitars had almost been deafening, the daggers were even worse. Ardeth and Asim grimaced from the sound but watched in amazement as Nabil lunged at Berin. The warrior managed to block the deadly thrust then brought up his scimitar to jab at Nabil, spinning his body around to follow through with his dagger aimed straight at Nabil's heart. The blow was miraculously deflected drawing shouts of surprise from the crowd. 

It seemed to the spectators gathered that the duel was a choreographed ballet of metal, of parry and lunge, of thrust and jab. It was a harmonious dance of glistening bodies, of strength and endurance. Many of the warriors in the crowd started to speculate amongst themselves how long the two men could last under the depleting rays of the sun.

"I have changed my opinion," Asim informed Ardeth during a momentary break in the sparring. "And have come to the conclusion that you are correct; they are insane."

"Then I must be suffering from the same affliction," Ardeth laughed and leaned forward. "I think I shall challenge the winner of this match."

Asim nodded his head, reluctant to tear his eyes away for just one moment in case anything was missed. Berin drove his dagger at Nabil, intent on his aim for the heart but at the last moment, Nabil spun away from the attack, his own dagger glancing off Berin's. He parried with his scimitar and above the noise, they heard Jameel yell that it was a point as the blade barely touched Berin's skin.  
  
"The score is tied again!" Jameel called out. He jumped down off the railing and showed the score sheet to whomever felt the need to look. Warriors crowded around him and seemed amazed that the session had lasted for so long with no blood drawn. 

"I cannot believe both warriors are still standing," Ardeth commented to Asim. "What happens now?"

~*~  
  
Nabil held his scimitar and dagger in one hand and grinned and extended his forearm to Berin, who promptly clasped it. Both men were now thoroughly drenched from perspiration, the water they had thrown on themselves from not to long ago having dried up in the heat.   
  
"Shukran for the session," Nabil said with a chuckle. "Tonight as I ease my aching body into my pallet, I will know who to blame for all my pain."   
  
"You owe me a rematch," Berin replied, his face impassive as always except for the slight twinkle in his dark eyes. "I will not accept a tie for our scores."

"Nor will I," Ardeth spoke up from behind the two warriors. He quickly disposed of his sash and belts, shrugged off his robes and stepped forward, pulling his scimitar free from its sheathe. His eyes were bright and alive with pleasure; the prospective of testing his own skills against two of his commanders a temptation too strong to resist. "Which one of you old women would like to go first?"

Nabil looked at Berin, a slight smile dancing around the corners of his mouth. By Allah, he was tired but…

"Should we?" Nabil asked and jerked his head towards the waiting Ardeth.

"Why not?" Berin growled. He took a moment to stretch his long, lean body and swung his scimitar in a few whistling slices through the air. "Let us show Ardeth that we are far from being two old women."

Nabil and Berin faced Ardeth in the middle of the corral and all three warriors saluted one another with their scimitars raised in front of their faces. Suddenly Ardeth bellowed his battle cry and rushed his two astonished commanders across the sand like a charging bull…  



	16. The Medjai Dating Game

The Medjai Dating Game 

_Surprise!  The promised double shot of a snippet.  _

_This is a funny little snippet that I had to share as perhaps my last…boo hoo. LOL We're going to peek in on a conversation between some warriors regarding the hazards of arranged marriages.  They've been doing something totally un-warrior-like and have been sipping tea as they converse with their friends.  Again I borrow Asim, giving credit to his creators Ell and Jenn and Talib, whose creator is Ladybug.  Thanks for letting me 'play' with your boys for a wee bit.  Heh heh_

_And let me introduce two new warriors, Makin and Solman.   _

_How shall I describe these two young warriors?  Do you have a lot of time?  LOL They are young, strong and of course, handsome.  LOL Their coming across as very tall and muscular.  Makin's physical attributes are hard to describe but I get the feeling that his hair is short but kind of shaggy, dark brown eyes, broad chest and powerful shoulders and arms. Solman is my slow thinking Medjai – he's very honest, gentle and methodical in his mannerisms.  He may have to repeat a few things in order to remember them but he's the kind of warrior you'd hate to go up against in battle.  Solman is my contradiction; the heart of an angel and yet, he kills to uphold his sacred duty as a protector of man.  Solman's body is huge, almost as big as Berin's yet he never uses his size of his strength as an unfair advantage._

_Ok, enough gushing about these two…let's eavesdrop on the conversation, shall we? ;-)_

~*~

He was enjoying himself.  
  
Makin sat back on the cushions and propped one long leg out in front of him for balance as sipped his seventh cup of tea. It was dark and sweet just as he liked it and he felt a certain amount of pride he hadn't drained the cup in one swallow as he had done the previous cups.  He was talking with Ardeth, Asim and Talib, adding friendship on to the already present foundation of their association as warriors.  Solman sat to his left, quiet and thoughtful, his dark eyes watching the serving girls as they bustled around the tent, replenishing food and drink.  Occasionally one of them would glance over at the warrior's and giggle, causing a slow smile to dance fleetingly across Solman's face.     
  
His thoughts distracted because of his concern for Solman's obvious affection or weakness for a pretty mara, he almost didn't quite catch the question posed by Asim. "SamaH ana, ya ukh but would you repeat that again?" he asked.  
  
"Do either of you have a special mara waiting for you both back at your village," Asim questioned. "I was just saying to Talib it seems that most of the warriors have had their hearts captured by the women from the oasis nearby." His comment briefly caught the attention of one serving girl who stood poised nearby with a tray.  Asim glanced over at her and winked, and much to his delight saw her blush profusely even through her veil.  
  
"La," Makin replied. "Neither of us is attached and was contemplating a petition to our Elders for any available marriage contracts. However I learned prior to our departure for the oasis that the only ones left were for women who were considered less than...desirable."  
  
"Less than desirable?" Talib asked.    
  
"Mareekha was missing teeth," Solman pointed out with his child-like honesty.

Ardeth almost snorted into his cup of tea and coughed to hide his laughter from Solman's comment.  "That could be a problem," he murmured dryly.    
  
"Toula had a problem with her....face," Makin grimaced at the memory.     
  
Asim choked back a laugh. "What kind of problem?" he asked, enjoying this rare humor displayed by both warriors.  He glanced at Ardeth and Talib and was happy to see they were both struggling to maintain their composures.    
  
"Her nose was too big for it," Solman replied matter-of-factly. 

"Really big," Makin clarified with a look of disbelief.    
  
"Oh for the love of..." Talib muttered and turned slightly to the side, his shoulders shaking from his silent laughter.  

"There was Mareesha," Solman said.  "I remember her."    
  
"Aiwa, as do I," Makin exclaimed. "She was…unique."  He blushed and swallowed the last of his tea, wondering why the three other warriors were staring expectantly at him.    
  
A moment of silence.  Ardeth looked at Asim and Talib, realizing neither man was in any shape to ask so of course he had too.  "Mareesha?" he said hopefully.    
  
At Solman's insistent prodding, Makin finally explained for his friends why they found this particular maiden lacking. "The problem was she had facial hair that was worthy of a veteran warrior," he said with a dramatic sigh. 

~*~

Translations

Mara - woman

SamaH ana, ya ukh – forgive me, my brother


	17. The Kiss

The Kiss

I know I said no more snippets but I decided to pull this one out of hiding. I had it tucked away for rainy day and it was raining yesterday so…why not post it? LOL Special credit goes to Jennifer Lee, Ellbee and Staci aka Ladybug who inspired this not that long ago, as we played around with a few ideas via email. It was Jenn's original idea and so, it's all her fault. LOL My friends, I hope you don't mind me tweaking this and submitting it. Please enjoy and I hope you, the readers, don't mind me getting mushy. ;-)

~*~

Alone in the moonlit night, she stood outside on the stone patio and folded her hands in front of her, a futile effort to quell their trembling. She waited impatiently for the warrior to come; the contents of his note forever burned into memory.

__

Meet me at midnight, out on the stone patio. I need to see you; the consequences of my rash actions do not concern me…

"Ardeth, my love," she whispered into the night and closed her eyes. Her stomach tightened with nervous anticipation, her chest rose and fell with each breath as she fought to contain her excitement. She marveled at the feelings for him that swept over her, their intensity a surprise considering they had met only a few days ago in the marketplace. Tall, dark, mysterious, an aura of danger exuded from the warrior and she was helplessly ensnared thoughts of freedom no longer clamored for attention in her mind. Instead she listened to her heart and now, waited for him to come to her…  
  
Suddenly, she felt his presence and sensed Ardeth was standing only a few feet away. Incredibly she could feel the warmth emanating from his body, his masculine scent entirely too appealing; a heady mixture of spice, heat and man. She opened her eyes and reached out, smiling when their hands came together; large and warm, his hand dwarfed hers as their fingers locked together. With a surprising gentleness, they silently instructed her to turn around, making her willing body pirouette until her back was pressed against him. Ardeth released her hands, and gently brushed aside the silken curtain of her hair, placing sweet tender kisses on the delicate flesh of her neck. Distracted by his lips, she tilted her head to one side, encouraging him, lost in the magical spell he skillfully wove around them. She flinched in surprise when his hands skimmed down her arms and came to rest on the small span of her hips. Ardeth gave a low throaty chuckle to her reaction as he pulled her body against his tall, hard length; the defined planes of his broad chest pressed against her shoulder blades.   
  
Ardeth kissed her the side of her neck again, slowly pulling her body until it was flush against his hips, the thick proof of his own excitement bulging beneath the thin layer of his cloth pants. She gasped from the feel of it, unable to stop herself from wiggling; the friction too delicious to ignore as he continued to lavish the sensitive skin with his lips then his teeth. Small bites, licked then kissed captured her attention until she felt the insistent pressure of his hands, silently urging her body to dip and sway. Willingly she followed his directions, amazed that somehow they fell into a rhythm, hips aligned and undulating in perfect union.   
  
"Ardeth," she breathed in wonder. "What are you doing to me?"  
  
"Perhaps I should offer an explanation to help you understand," Ardeth chuckled as his masterful manipulation of her body continued.   
  
"No…no," she replied and closed her eyes. Wantonly she pressed herself against him and felt his hands come up to capture her arms, placing them up and around his neck. She had to stand on her tiptoes and gladly anchored her hands around him as they both swayed together. He nuzzled her neck, no longer content to kiss one spot and traced a wet trail with his tongue up and down the slim column of her neck. She leaned her head to one side, giving him better access and freedom; her lips parted as her breath came out in small puffs.   
  
Their dance of passion came to an abrupt end and she almost cried out her disappointment when he slowly turned her around to face him. Her protests were silenced when she found herself pulled against his body, hips once again meshed together. A groan of need slid past her lips and her arms moved up and up, resting briefly on his broad shoulders, fingers roaming over the muscular strength of his body. Her hands caressed Ardeth's face, lovingly tracing the firm jaw line, dancing across skin covered with light stubble as now she gave silent instructions, urging his face down to meet her own. She could feel his warm sweet breath wash over her and briefly wondered why he hesitated in kissing her. Lips parted, she almost whispered "Please..." but fell silent when she felt his hand stroked her face.  
  
Ardeth lowered his head and gently kissed her; his lips fluttered against her own. He sampled, tasted, tested and learned their outline and texture. He grunted in surprise when she mimicked his actions, and continued his unhurried exploration of her mouth and yet, he could feel the urgency building up between them.   
  
Feeling bold and empowered, she took the initiative and as Ardeth's lips touched one corner of her mouth and her tongue flicked out. It dragged along his mouth and suddenly Ardeth became the aggressor. His mouth turned back to hers, his lips parted as his tongue came out to stroke hers, sliding over and around it. His arms tightened around her, pulled her close as his lips became more demanding, his tongue now seeking permission to enter her mouth of which she gladly gave. It slid over her lips and she sighed with happiness. She accepted it as well as his undeniable domination of her mouth; his tongue explored the recesses, leaving no part of her mouth untouched. She clung to him as he became more forceful and she reveled in his loss of control. Their tongues dueled, mated, intertwined as they greedily drank from one another and almost became lost...  
  
A piercing whistle shattered their union and Ardeth reluctantly pulled away from her; his hands still rested on her arms. "I must go," he whispered.  
  
She resisted the desire to throw herself into his arms, chilled without his warmth. "Will I see you again?" she asked eyes luminous with unshed tears as he started to walk away from her.   
  
Ardeth took a few steps, then turned back to face her, his face a mixture of moonlight and shadow. His eyes burned with the flames of desire that remained unquenched and his reply, although curt, sent a shiver of excitement racing through her heart. "Yes." 


	18. The Master and the Medjai

"What in God's name is a Medjai?"  
  
"Something you have no business buying...that is what a Medjai is."  
  
The man in shackles stood defiantly before the woman, his robes in tatters, and his wounds only just now showing the first signs of healing. She circled him, eyeing his disheveled yet proud muscular body up and down. Every few inches, a tear in his dark robes hung open just enough to allow the woman a good view of the muscular flesh that lay beneath the assaulted fabric.  
  
"You were for sale, so I bought you. I do not recall seeing you protest."  
  
"I am...tired."  
  
Injured was more like it. Exhausted, too. Ambushed, he and a small count of his men had been fired upon, lashed at, and ultimately imprisoned and neglected. He'd lost blood, a great deal. His strength and wit had told him that stillness served him best for the moment.  
  
They'd finally released him from the cage in Morocco, pulling his shackles and fastening him to a support column in the plaza. In this smallest of time frames in Ardeth Bay's life, he'd allowed himself to show weakness...to show pain...to exhibit inferiority. Displaying his usual masculine esteem would've brought only the fiercest of bidders.  
  
One by one, the prospective owners filed by, lifted his arms, and parted the tears in his clothing to inspect the damage to his body. As much as his training begged him to proudly fend off their explorations, Chieftain Bay let his limbs and skin be poked and prodded, inwardly thanking Allah each and every time a slave driver passed him by. And with each denial, the leader of the Medjai Warriors grew more confident that a way to escape and return to his people would present itself.  
  
Then she came.  
  
She was as dark as he was, but not of his kind. Regal, affluent...overly so in her stride and demeanor, floating amongst the hoard of captives chained around him, passing each by with a nixing of her finger and audible explanation for why each wasn't purchasable.  
  
She was within a few feet of his damaged and shackled body. His training, his pride told him to continue the weakened and beaten performance, to avoid her eyes...to do all possible to insure he, too, was passed by. Instead, the murky brown of his irises raised to the amber hue of hers, and his head swung around in an effort to clear the obsidian strands of sleek hair from his eyes to both view the woman better...and to allow her a clearer view of him.   
  
She'd never slowed a step as she'd passed each bound man, but when her eyes landed on his dusky countenance, her slippered foot halted the rest of her body the second it landed on the sandy plaza floor. Her eyes ran up and down his body, then rested upon his face, studying the tattoos, the trimmed beard...the defiant, soulful eyes.  
  
"This one. Tell me about him."  
  
"A stray, my Lady. Found unconscious and bleeding amongst his fallen men. Not befitting you, if I may be so bold. I expect he will find his end as food for the beasts, for his injuries require more than I will allow."  
  
With each of the vendor's words, the woman inspected him more closely, her eyes meeting the Chieftain's more often, a silent conversation occurring between the two. And how much do you ask for him?"  
  
The vendor could not hide his astonishment. "My Lady, he has not the strength to serve your household. He will require too much care. Shall we move on?"  
  
The woman spun sharply, and impaled the vendor with the sting of her stare. "I wish to know how much you ask for this one. Answer me, or we are finished."  
  


Hours later, he stood before a fire, lit in the chambers of an aristocratic woman.  
  
"I know that you are tired. And so shall you rest now, Medjai."  
  
"Not without telling me why I was your choice." Her eyes had already confessed to him under the tented plaza ceiling, yet his wounded body still needed to hear her answer.   
  
"You..." She walked around him again, a key to his shackles dangling in her hands, "You...are unlike any other slave I've seen before."   
  
The key-carrying hand began its journey to the junction of his shackles, penetrating the lock slowly, and agonizingly unclasping the chambers that held the iron wristbands together, releasing him. She showed no fear of retaliation; no hint of nervousness at what the newly freed dark stranger before her might do now. She took the heavy shackles in her hand and tossed them into the fire, watching them land on the glowing embers briefly before backing away a few steps.   
  
"I was once a slave, like you, Medjai. I once was bound and shackled...taken from my family, from all I'd known and trusted in life, and carted against my will to a tent not unlike the one I found you in today," she said softly.   
  
Ardeth Bay did not run...didn't seize this invaluable opportunity to complete his escape. He chose to stay and listen as she continued speaking, seemingly lost in the memories that still held a razor sharp potency.   
  
"I was fortunate...my fate was unlike that of so many of the other women I came to know during my imprisonment. I was purchased by a man...a good man with a good heart. He married me, freed me, and gave me a home." Her attention shifted from the now glowing shackles and turned to stare at the Chieftain intently. "Here in this place."  
  
Still, Ardeth did not take his leave.  
  
"The plague robbed me of him, of his kindness...but not of his wealth. His death brought to me not only riches, but the power that so easily trails it, and his kindness echoes still in my heart. It tells me what he wishes I do with the money that his soul could not take to its next life."  
  
She took a step towards him; her eyes locked on him with warmth that took ensnared any last vestiges of escape the Medjai in him held onto. Suddenly, her stare abandoned him, and searched instead her bed chambers.  
  
"You see my large home is empty...yet you are not the first slave I have purchased." The straight line of her lips curved upward, adding more warmth to her face, and to Ardeth's soul. "Now go. Return to your people, lead them, for I could see in your guise that this is your destiny, Medjai."  
  
The will once stifled by fascination in Ardeth resurfaced, and his backward steps began slowly, increasing in pace as his injured body neared her chamber door. She sat next to the fire, still smiling warmly at him, encouraging him not to stop but to continue his leave. This was no trick. Her eyes told him that he was free...free for a greater good.  
  
With the strength her eyes gave him, Ardeth took the last retreating steps and disappeared into the night air.

~*~

Her dreams were filled with good will that night, and a faint smile played across her lips as she allowed the world only seen through closed eyes to wrap itself around her. In this night world, there were no slaves, no injustices, no enemies...her wealth needed no cause to expend itself on, and pain, though rare in this sleeping world, was nothing more than physical.  
  
Still, the physical crept in somehow this night...in the form of a large tattooed hand stroking its regal fingers across her unbound hair.  
  
Slowly, her eyes opened, took moments to focus, then stared in disbelief at the slave she'd freed only hours before, seated on the edge of her bed and caressing her gently.  
  
"You are free..." She assured him as she sat up and faced him. "Did you not understand, Medjai? I require nothing of you, only that you return to your people."  
  
The hand, once running the length of her hair now played across her cheek, a set of obsidian eyes joining its path now. "I am aware." 

For the first time, she saw him smile. Only slightly, but powerfully.   
  
Within a moment of flickering time, his answer continued. "I am free...true enough. But I cannot return to my people when there is one still in chains." The hand once stroking her cheek now cradled her face joined by the other hand now as his stare deepened its meaning. "Now, it is your turn to know freedom."  
  
With each mile traversed across the harsh dunes towards her new home, the weight on her soul lightened the pressing on her heart lifted.  
  
And when the stallion the Medjai Chief and his Savior sat upon rode into the village gates...  
  
Her unburdened soul grew wings.  


~*~

A/N: _I'm doing something a little different here and am posting a snippet written by a friend named Claudia. I felt that it was powerful and potent enough to share with all of you and she has, bless her soul, given me permission to use it and expand on it for a future story. Feedback would be appreciated and of course, I hope you enjoy her style of writing._

As for my own languishing fanfic, RL has prevented me from writing as much as I would love to but I promise updates are coming soon. Please, my characters and I beg of you…don't forget us. LOL ;-) 


	19. The One That He Let Get Away

_He was torturing himself and he knew it, cursing himself for being such a fool…_  
  
Dark, hungry, and almost predatory eyes watched as Hasna-Kamilah walked through the crowded marketplace with her friends as they went about their errands. A swell of longing surged up in Ardeth's beleaguered heart as his gaze skimmed over the oval shape of her face that was hidden by her burqa, and then lingered on the graceful hand that held additional fabric in place.

_A hand that held so much power within its dainty grasp…it held the heart of a warrior…the soul of a king…_  
  
Ardeth stepped back into the shadows as he continued his forbidden surveillance of the woman who had so effortlessly captured him. Her regal bearing and winsome grace had been carefully hidden by her mother and aunts, lest it attract the unwanted attentions of a suitor. Her captivating eyes and alluring mouth held an endless fascination for Ardeth, and had led him to wonder what it would be like to sample the sweet taste of her lips.  
  
_Lips as red as a pomegranate and skin as soft as silk…Ardeth ached to touch what would never be his…what had been promised to another…_  
  
From the moment he had been re-introduced to Hasna-Kamilah, Ardeth had felt as if his soul had finally recognized its mate; the missing piece of his heart. It was truly a blessing from Allah that her frivolity and gentle demeanor had eased the troubling tension that permeated the meeting. He had been grateful for her teasing distraction and astute observation of his discomfort, enabling him to act accordingly in the presence of the Elders and her father as the petition for marriage had been submitted.  
  
_Stolen moments…chance meetings…Ardeth tried to reach for what would forever elude his grasp…_  
  
To see Hasna-Kamilah as a vibrant young woman of the village had been a shock to Ardeth, considering he had always remembered her as a gangly and awkward little girl. He had been initially drawn to her innate sense of humor, and her ability to make even the most arduous of tasks fun. Now he found himself coming up with the most pitiful of excuses to be around her, and her betrothed, until finally he could no longer hide behind the pretense of dignity and decorum. He wanted her as badly as he knew she wanted him…the urge to seize what he had considered his grew strong within Ardeth, until he was finally forced to take drastic measures ensuring that he would never embarrass Hasna-Kamilah, her family or her intended.  
  
_He tried to avoid her…tried to forget about the brief stolen moments in time when they had talked…or laughed…or had gazed wonderingly into one another's eyes…_  
  
Ardeth's life had suddenly dwindled down to denying the strong attraction they both felt for one another. Hasna-Kamilah loved him, and the temptation to marry him was strong. So strong that the possible ramifications of her impetuous actions would ruin the lives of so many. Her social standing within the Medjai community, the same status as Ardeth's, would not protect her from the wrath of the Elders. Her disobedience would extract a high price…one that Ardeth was uncertain she truly wanted to pay. The chains of duty were nonexistent…the laws of their people held no authority…Ardeth could have Hasna-Kamilah, granting both their personal preferences. And yet he did nothing. He resorted to watching her from afar, desiring a future that was not his for the taking. "Ija, Hasna," one of the veiled young women called out and beckoned for her to come over to the stall. "Never have I seen such lovely bolts of fabric before, truly they are worthy of being used to complete your wedding wardrobe."  
  
Ardeth's eyes narrowed in speculation as the young women gathered around the vendor's stall, chattering excitedly and holding up various lengths of damask and silk for display. He seized the unexpected opportunity and materialized from the darkness, reaching out and snagging Hasna-Kamilah's arm as she hurried by. He quickly covered her mouth lest her scream of fright alert her friends to his presence and hastily pulled her against him, once again melting within the shadowed alleyway. To her credit, Hasna-Kamilah didn't cry out or struggle; her bravery in the face of adversity was an attribute that Ardeth had come to greatly admire. She remained stiff and unyielding until Ardeth turned her around, and then with the speed of a striking cobra, she lashed out with her foot and kicked Ardeth in the shin.  
  
"Ruffian!" she cried and kicked out again. "Cur! Pig! Shame on you…" "Ow! Hasna, it is I…ow!" Ardeth tried to dodge the next blow, doing an awkward dance as he tried to maintain his balance.  
  
"…harassing a poor innocent woman in the market place," Hasna-Kamilah ranted and raved, lifting her robes to deliver another strike to what she believed to be her assailant's ankles. "Enough!" Ardeth shouted and grabbed Hasna-Kamilah's arms. "It is Ardeth," he gritted out between clenched teeth and gave her a little shake.  
  
Hasna-Kamilah blinked in surprise as the tension abruptly left her body; she sagged for a moment and then stiffened again with the shameful realization that she wanted to impulsively throw her arms around the handsome but foreboding warrior that stood before her. "Ardeth," she breathed as she nervously glanced up the alleyway to make certain no one could see them. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Ardeth felt a wave of sorrow pierce his heart as he watched the myriad of emotions dance across Hasna-Kamilah's face. Fear of discovery conflicted with joy, delight was tamped down and defeated as practicality took over, and Hasna-Kamilah took a step backwards. His greedy gaze drank in the sight of her, committing the vision to memory in the hopes that it would sustain him in the long, lonely nights to come. "I have come to say farewell," he finally replied, his voice sounding hoarse and hollow.  
  
Hasna-Kamilah arched an eyebrow in surprise from the announcement. "Farewell?" she echoed and then shook her head. "I do not understand. Where are you going?"  
  
Ardeth shook his head as a wan smile danced across his face. He reached up and tenderly trailed his fingers down her veil covered cheek. "Ah, ya hulu Hasna, your candor and curiosity may get you into trouble someday. I pray to Allah that your husband-to-be will be able to handle and appreciate this aspect of your charming personality." Hasna-Kamilah blinked in surprise from his caress. "You know who my betrothed is, Ardeth," she stated quietly. "And you have given Kedar and I your blessing for the union. Flattery will not make me forget my question – where are you going?" "Hasna-Kamilah, where are you?" a feminine voice suddenly called out over the din of the market place. At the same moment a tall and imposing warrior appeared at Ardeth's side, his dark eyes sweeping over Hasna-Kamilah in a swift perusal and immediate dismissal. "Ya ra'is, we must go," his voice rumbled up from deep within his broad chest, sounding like distant thunder.  
  
"Ardeth?" Hasna-Kamilah asked and reached out to touch the sleeve of his robe.  
  
Ardeth offered Hasna-Kamilah a small sad smile as he adjusted his face covering. He motioned to the other massive warrior that he would be along shortly, and then turned back to the one woman he had ever wanted…and had decided to let go. "Kedar Ishaq is a fine man, an exceptional warrior. He will be a good husband for you…" he faltered as visions of Hasna-Kamilah as a happily wedded young woman flood his mind. She was surrounded by her children, all of them happy and healthy, resembling their father in their behavior, favoring their mother in their coloring. "Kedar is your best friend, Ardeth. You cannot leave without saying your farewell to him," Hasna-Kamilah said and held her hands in supplication. "At least tell me where you are going so I can inform Kedar."  
  
"Hasna-Kamilah, is that you?" the same voice asked as she now stood in the entrance to the alleyway.  
  
Hasna-Kamilah turned to reply to her friend and knew in that instant that Ardeth had disappeared. She spun around and was saddened to see her suspicion confirmed. Alone, she sighed and gathered her robes about her as she walked towards her friend. She paused before stepping out into the crowd, and searched for any sign of the elusive warrior she had known since childhood. _The chosen one…the leader of the Medjai…warrior for God…protector of man… _  
  
"Peace be upon you, Ardeth Bay, and may He grant you your own heart's desire, and soon," she whispered. "Just as He has granted mine." She placed her fingertips against her lips, kissed them and then brought them down in a gesture of goodbye. As Hasna-Kamilah was absorbed back into the crowd, surrounded by her friends as they escorted her to the fabric vendor, a pair of dark eyes watched her leave… _…and reflected on the choices made…the loss of a love…the friendship between warriors…and the uncertainty of what his future may hold._

_A/N - I know I've said in the past that I wasn't going to add on any more snippets but this was part of a writer's challenge on the mb that I moderate. And the premise to write a snippet or short story based on this:_

_He must be in love - or lust [lust works too] with her  
  
She must be strongly attracted to him; whether she is in love with him or not, she's tempted to marry him.  
  
She's a natural born Medjai, no Europeans or Americans in immediate bloodline, and in the same social standing as Ardeth.  
  
No duty or otherwise keeping either from marriage, or forcing into one. They're free to choose by personal preference.  
  
And preferably, but not absolutely required:  
  
She is not a warrior but rather an ordinary Medjai woman  
  
And finally, it should include these words:  
  
Regal… Frivolity… Fun_

_I think I did pretty good and many thanks to my beta, Serena, for her help. Ali, here's your short story, I hope you like it. ;-) _

__


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